


Half-Way

by Theoriginaleverythingtrash



Category: LazyTown
Genre: And it makes sense, And the banter, Baby Sport and Robbie are in this too, Enough with the banter, FUCK, Gratuitous use of OCs, Hurt/Comfort, I even found a way to work in a ball, IDGAF, M/M, and slowburn, and the time period is all over the place, dancing on the 'am I gay for you?' line, get super crimey, gods man, its gonna, just be patient about them, not tragic for once, obligatory angst, or rather partners in law, partners in crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoriginaleverythingtrash/pseuds/Theoriginaleverythingtrash
Summary: Glanni, leader of the notorious Mayhemtown gang, gets himself arrested. His choices are death or help Ithro take out the four remaining crime bosses. Chaos ensues, naturally. The race is on to systematically dismantle the mythic crime ring, one boss at a time. But what secrets will be unearthed along the way?  Romance! Suspense! Action? Domestics! All this and more. Credit for Ana goes to TjLockticon, a.k.a Sportafloopity, a.k.a Sportatiddy, author of the amazing Goblin Men series. Thanks fam!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the thing. Have a good.

Monday was supposed to be the worst day of the week. However, as Ithro made his way to the interrogation room, he was starting to realize today would have it beat by a mile. And it was Friday! He hadn’t even been on-duty that day. He had planned to spend the temperate spring afternoon at the park, enjoying a little sunlight and fresh air. He had gotten a call from the office not half an hour ago, just before he was due to set out. Luckily he lived close, or he wouldn’t have made it so soon. Mr. Meanswell, Chief Busybody’s small, portly, and highly nervous secretary, had sounded even more agitated than usual. Clearly the Chief had wanted him in, and immediately. He’d grabbed his badge and holster and booked it for the station as soon as Mr. Meanswell had ended the call. 

When Ithro had arrived, he noticed right away that the front foyer was absolutely wrecked. Chairs overturned, end tables knocked over, a vase of flowers now shattered on the floor. Someone had put up one hell of a fight on their way in, that much was obvious. Little spots of blood formed a trail all the way down the hallway. Milford sat behind the front desk, typing away on the typewriter quite rapidly, a sure sign that he was very rattled.

“How’s the boss today, Milford?” asked Ithro as he made his way up to the counter. Milford jumped with an audible squeak, looking up in fear. Ithro held his hands up to show he meant no hostility. “Whoa! You okay?”

“Oh… Yes… Yes, I’m fine… I just… Got sort of spooked when they brought that pink fellow in,” said Milford, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his yellow jacket. 

“Pink fellow?” asked Ithro.

“Yes. Quite a nasty customer. Broke my vase of hyacinths,” said Milford, gesturing to the semi-trampled flowers on the floor. “And I worked so hard to grow them…” He shook his head and sighed. “Bessie will want you in immediately. I just have to finish this report and I’ll get to straightening out the foyer. She’s in a mood, so go on. Scoot! Tell your Gran that I appreciate the socks very much.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her, Milford,” said Ithro with an amicable smile. He gave a slight wave as he began to follow the trail of blood drops.

But it was when Ithro entered the room itself that the dread he’d been feeling since he got the call finally made sense. Chief Busybody sat on one side of the table, arms folded. Case files lay open between her and the perp. They littered the table with news articles, typewritten pages, photographs of people and places. But he seemed just as uninterested in them as Busybody herself. He wore a garish bright pink suit, his wrists firmly held in place by the standard magic-dampening bindings. The large, navy blue wings protruding from his back were the only explanation for them that Ithro needed. Both of the room’s occupants looked up when Ithro entered. The Chief gave him a particularly accusatory look. 

“And what took you so long?” asked Chief Busybody, giving Ithro that patronizing voice she usually used whenever she was irritated. Ithro closed the door behind him. “When I have Milford tell you now, that means now. Not twenty three minutes later.”

“I had to walk here, Chief,” said Ithro in the most respectful tone he could muster. Sometimes her demanding tone was irritating, but he had dealt with worse. “You haven’t given me access to an automobile yet.”

“I haven’t?” asked Chief Busybody, seeming quite taken aback. She furrowed her eyebrows. “I thought I… Y’know what it doesn’t matter.” She gestured to the man in pink across from her. “Ithro, I trust you recognize this schmuck.”

And of course Ithro did. The obnoxious pink suit was a dead giveaway. Every cop on the force would recognize it. Only one crime lord in the area, heck, probably in the whole world, wore such an outfit. But underneath the broad brim of the ridiculous pink hat, Ithro recognized the face. Stormy grey eyes, surrounded by dark circles. Ithro couldn’t quite tell if they were natural, or from the obvious smudging of his black eyeliner. His lips also bore pink lipstick that was mostly worn away. The cleft chin, the unmistakeable nose trickling blood over his mouth, chin, and onto his shirt and jacket. Yes, he knew he was looking at a wanted crime lord, but he also knew he was looking at the same man… boy… from all those years ago. Older, no doubt, but the smirk was definitely the same.

Ithro had been but a child himself then. Just thirteen years old, working as a clerk for the local grocer. It was long, thankless hours, sweltering in the summer and freezing in the winter. He stood behind the register every day from sunup to sundown every day but Sunday for three years. 

On the particular day that he met the not-yet crime lord, he was just finishing ringing up Mrs. Pevensie, a sweet old lady that always left an extra nickel for him. As she was making her way out of the store, movement from across the street caught Ithro’s eye. He could see two kids out by Mr. Jenkins’ bakery. There was a pie sitting out on the windowsill. They were both clearly fey, wings out in the open brazenly. They were dressed in worn-out clothing; threadbare in some places, colors faded in others. Their faces were clean, but their hands were dirty. The boy was doing simple magic tricks; changing the colors of ladies skirts and parasols. Most of the patrons had to be human, because they were delighted, placing coins in the boy’s little newsboy cap. However, what none of the others seemed to notice was a lightly glamoured girl, creeping ever closer to the windowsill. Before long, her hands closed around the pie pan. 

The boy gave an exaggerated bow, then disappeared in a puff of sparkles. The humans were delighted, but Ithro, being a mythic himself, saw that both the boy and the girl were very much still there. They were simply glamoured so they appeared to have disappeared. The two quickly left after that, seemingly gloating over their prize. 

Now, Ithro, fancying himself a little vigilante, immediately felt as though he had a civic duty to bring the thieves to justice. After all, Mr. Jenkins was a good man. But he couldn’t just walk away from the register. The store could be robbed. With a little quick thinking, Ithro ran to the door of the manager’s office. He sat there behind his desk, looking over the receipts it would seem. He looked up when Ithro stepped into the room.

“I need to get some fresh air, before I upchuck all over the produce,” said Ithro in a weak voice, feigning illness to the best of his ability. The manager seemed to believe it. The concern on his face appeared to be genuine. “May I take my lunch break early?”

“Yes, by all means,” said the manager. He began to reach into his desk. “I have a little tonic here if you care for some. Might help ease the discomfort.”

“No, thank you, Sir, but you’re very kind,” said Ithro with a queasy smile. 

The manager waved him off, but Ithro’s feet were already carrying him out the door and after the trail of glitter. An amateur mistake, not covering the traces of their magic. But Ithro supposed they were at least a little younger than him. Young people did foolish things. The glitter trail lead him down a winding path of roads and alleys. Ithro dodged ladies and gentlemen, more than once just hardly missed getting run over by a carriage or the odd automobile. Finally, the trail went down a particularly dirty alleyway. A tin garbage can lay tipped over at the mouth of it, the reek of decomposing plants and meat was overwhelming. Stray cats, at least five, were squabbling over the scraps. Ithro had never been to this part of town before. In fact, his grandmother had warned him against it countless times. Despite himself, Ithro began to feel nervous as he made his way further into the dimly lit alley, his heart rate picking up ever so slightly.

But the further he went, the more clearly he could hear the laughter of the two children. They were speaking in a tongue Ithro recognized as the fae language, but he didn’t understand a word they were saying. The dismal mood of the alley dimmed the closer he got to the children, digging into the apple pie with their dirty fingers. Ithro had to cringe. How disgusting. But the two seemed genuinely happy. It was quite… disarming. Though Ithro didn’t understand the syllables pouring from their sticky mouths, he could tell they were joking by their tone.

From the distance that he was at, he could make out more about their appearances. Ithro had thought the boys wings were black, but they were instead a deep navy blue. Hers were a shimmering gold, bordered in black. Hers were more butterfly-like, while his were like translucent gossamer. Their clothes looked even rattier up close, though her dress seemed newer than his pants and shirt. Ithro could see a little blue ribbon tied into her wavy black hair that he hadn’t seen before. Her face and arms were dotted with freckles. He was pale, his skin clear of similar marks. His hair was largely hidden by his cap, though the little wisps poking out around his ears were also black. 

Steeling his resolve to see these two brought to justice, Ithro stepped forward, clearing his throat. The two looked up, fear in their eyes before they realized how young Ithro looked. 

“We’re not gonna share,” said the boy immediately, pulling the pie in closer. The girl gave his arm a swat. “What?”

“He can have some if he’s hungry,” said the girl. The boy gestured to Ithro.

“Look at ‘im, he’s clean! He ain’t hungry like us, Ana!” the boy exclaimed. 

“I don’t want any anyways,” said Ithro, folding his arms. “I saw you two earlier. I know you stole that pie. How often do you two do stuff like this? Pretty often, I should think, since you seem to have a bit going.” Ithro gestured to the boy. “You distract the patrons so her glamour can work better? Or do you just like gypping people?”

“You don’t know diddly squat about us. And it’d be smart of you to blouse,” said the boy, rising to his feet. Though he was clearly younger than Ithro, he already matched him in height. “‘Fore I really get angry.”

“I’m not leaving until you…” Ithro drew a blank. He hadn’t exactly expected to make it this far. He didn’t know what he wanted these two to do. The maybe twenty cents they’d made wouldn’t cover the cost of the whole pie. Half for certain. He supposed he could call the police. But being that they were so young, the coppers would want to speak to their parents and Ithro was really starting to doubt they had any. He at last stumbled upon an idea for what to do. “I’m not leaving until you two go work off your debt to Mr. Jenkins.”

“Not gonna happen,” said the boy, balling his fists. Ithro hadn’t exactly anticipated a brawl. He took an uncertain step backwards. This seemed to embolden the boy. “If you got a problem, I’d be more than happy to resolve it for ya.”

“Glanni, he’s just an idiot kid,” said Ana, rising to her feet at last. She placed her hand on his shoulder, gently putting herself between the two. “Let’s just take the pie and poof, no need to get bloody.”

“Don’t like accusations,” grumbled Glanni, still glaring at Ithro. “‘Specially not from guys who don’t know from nothing.”

“Look, you can either back off or I’ll rip you a new one,” said Ana, no longer trying to reason. Her own hands began to clench. “Pipe down before you really get us in trouble, you understand?”

“But, Ana...” Glanni tried to say. Ana shot him a glare, then gave him a shove away from Ithro. Glanni almost lost his footing. 

“Shut your trap, you moron! Your motormouth is gonna get us killed some day, I know it! Take the pie, let’s get out of here. Now!”

“Fine,” said Glanni, backing off very reluctantly. 

“Hey, wait!” said Ithro, lunging forward to stop them

Before Ithro could even grab onto one of their sleeves, Glanni had snatched up the pie pan in his grubby hands and both the boy and girl poofed out of existence. They weren’t glamoured this time; simply gone. 

“Aw…. !” exclaimed Ithro, absently kicking at a pebble. What a waste of time and breath. “Applesauce!”

He’d made his way back to the grocer, told the manager he was feeling much better, then gave the nickel he’d gotten from Mrs. Penevsie to Mr. Jenkins. It was nowhere near enough, but he had seemed appreciative. Ithro had suspected that one such as that boy would only grow up to accomplish worse and worse things. And it seemed he was correct. He wondered absently for only a moment if he and the girl were still in cahoots before Chief Busybody rose from her chair. 

“Glanni Glaepur, better known by his alias Rikki Riki. Leader of the Mayhemtown gang, wanted for theft, robbery, possession of illegal firearms, possession of illegal substances, arson, and four counts of first-degree murder, as well as countless charges of manslaughter and attempted murder. Quite the wrap sheet, I should think,” said Chief Busybody, kicking out a chair for Ithro to sit in. He obliged. “Injured five of our officers during the arrest. Found him absolutely half-seas over in an alley, but he still put up one hell of a fight. Though he deserves the hangover, if you ask me.”

“Well, sounds to me like he’s gonna be in the cooler a long time,” said Ithro, looking over the contents of the case file on the desk. 

“Actually, the Court representative in congress wants him bumped off,” said the Chief nonchalantly, moving papers aside until she found her pack of cigarettes. She pulled her lighter from her pants pocket as she held the cigarette in her ruby red lips. She lit it and took a puff, blowing smoke all over the interrogation room. Glanni’s expression did not change. Ithro grimaced at the smell, but said nothing. “I’m inclined to let them do it. But it’s come to light that we have a much better use for the bastard.”

“Like what?” asked Ithro. 

“Don’t be a simpleton, boy,” snapped the Chief, leaning further over the table. She looked Glanni up and down. “He may be a monster, but he has information. Information we need. There are four other mythic crime bosses in the area and I suspect he knows each and every one of them. Enough to know how to get close and off them all before they wreak more havoc. Am I wrong about any of that, Dollface?”

“Just one,” said Glanni at last. His voice may have been deeper but the confrontational attitude was as prominent as ever. Glanni leaned in further as well. “The part where I’d rather die than help you.”

“You’re lying,” said Chief Busybody, carrying on her bored tone. “You spent too long building up your empire to let it all go just like that. Not that you’ll get it back after this anyway, but an ambitious man doesn’t throw his life away at the first sign of trouble. So you are going to give us the information, and you and Officer Ithro are going to go out and take care of each and every one of these bosses. When you’re done, you can have your freedom.”

“Awful stupid of you, to let me go when you know as well as I that I’ll start right back up,” said Glanni in a cool and collected voice. 

“No, you misunderstand. You’ll have your freedom from the human law. If the Court wants you punished or imprisoned afterward, that’s faery business and none of mine,” said Chief Busybody. She rose from the chair, making her way to the door. “I’ll let you two get better acquainted. I expect to see both of you in my office within the hour for your assignment.”

With that she walked out, slamming the door in her wake. This left the two men alone. The smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, as did an obvious tension. Ithro had no idea if Glanni recognized him after all these years. They both still looked mostly unchanged, though Ithro’s blond curls were much more tame and trimmed than back then. 

“She always like that?” asked Glanni in a genuine tone. Ithro gave Glanni a questioning look. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you trying to imply something about the chief?” asked Ithro, offended only for the sake of Glanni being a criminal. He was usually down to gossip about the boss’ bluntness with anyone else. However Ithro knew he had to set up some boundaries as soon as possible. “Let me make a couple things abundantly clear. We are not partners. We are most certainly not friends. This is a means to an ends and nothing more. We are going to work together only until we get the job done and then I’ll be happy to know that a danger like you is off the streets. This is just business.”

“So confrontational,” said Glanni in an amused tone. Ithro sighed, completely unamused. 

“I don’t trust you, not one bit,” said Ithro.

Glanni didn’t respond right away, just reached up to wipe the blood from his nose onto the sleeve of his jacket. Silently, he extended his bound hands forward, holding out a single hand for Ithro to shake. Ithro, being a naturally trusting man, took his hand. Quickly and suddenly, Glanni tightened his grip on Ithro’s hand and practically lunged across the table. His grin turned fiendish. Ithro wasn’t quite sure how to react, but he knew he didn’t like being this close to him. He reeked of perfume and the sort of burnt sugar smell that all fae magic carried. As Ithro struggled to free his hand, Glanni spoke again.

“That makes two of us.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I write this, there is an alarming amount of squirrels fighting over seeds in my backyard. Just thought you all should know.
> 
> I'll try to update once every other day, though longer chapters will take longer, so no guarantees on that.
> 
> Also, if you're interested, you can find me on good ol' Tumblr at anaglaepur. .... Yes, I love Goblin Men. This was known.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” said Glanni, leaning in over Ithro’s shoulder to peer at the case file on his desk. Ithro heaved a sigh. Slowly, he turned his head until he was glaring directly up at Glanni. Though Milford had been kind enough to get him some tissues to wipe the blood from his face, there were still stains. And the godawful burnt sugar smell. He was much too close for Ithro’s comfort. Sensing Ithro’s hostility, he held his hands up and straightened up again. “I ain’t done nothing. Just surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised?” asked Ithro, not willing to tear his eyes off the other man. “Why?”

“Surprised they managed to get a picture of the guy,” said Glanni, shrugging off his now bloodstained coat. He tossed it onto one of the two spare chairs pushed messily to the side of the room. “He’s a complete recluse. Never even saw him in person myself and I did business with him for five years.”

“Then I take it you don’t know where he is currently,” said Ithro. He of course knew the answer before Glanni shrugged. He raked his fingers through his hair, heaving another sigh. “No, of course not. That’d be too easy.”

Ithro leaned back in his creaky wooden chair, arms folded. As he tried to think of a possible lead on this mythic drug lord, Glanni began to make himself at home, poking around the little nooks and crannies. The office was small. Smaller than he had been anticipating. About the size of the average bedroom, enough room in it for the desk, a handful of wooden chairs, two floor lamps, a filing cabinet, and a bookshelf. A cheap Persian rug laid on the floor in a tacky red and gold color scheme. The blinds on the windows were opened fully, allowing the afternoon light to shine in. 

Glanni slowly made his way from the chairs by the windows to the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. He cast a glance to Ithro to see if he would notice, but he was deeply engrossed in the pages in front of him. Glanni completely ignored the incoherent mess of novels jammed onto the shelf wherever they would fit. Instead, his focus landed on a small framed picture on the top shelf. Gingerly, Glanni plucked it from its spot to look at it more closely. 

In the slightly aged photograph, there was an elderly woman, Ithro, and a young boy. All three were smiling. The elderly woman had a tight bun and seemed young despite her wrinkles. The boy was perched on Ithro’s lap, and had a messy crop of curls. One of his front teeth was missing. 

“Put that down!” came Ithro’s voice quite suddenly. Instinctively, he whirled around. Ithro rose from his chair, making his way to him and snatching the frame from his hand. He carefully set it back, then turned back to Glanni. “You’re here to take down crime lords, not snoop through my office.”

“Can’t I do both?” asked Glanni. Ithro’s deadpan expression was enough for him to roll his eyes. “Alright, fine, so you’re my fire extinguisher, I get it. Glad to see we won’t be having any fun.”

“This isn’t supposed to be fun,” said Ithro, gritting his teeth. He hurriedly swept the contents of the case file back inside the folder, then held it up for Glanni to take. He did so hesitantly. “Do you know where we could find him?”

“Afraid not,” said Glanni, facing away from Ithro. He began to pace as he fanned himself slowly with the folder. “Mr. Smalls is rarely in one place long enough to eat dinner, let alone be easy to track.”

“But?” said Ithro, leaning back on his desk. Glanni turned back around, an amused look on his face. 

“What makes you think there’s a but?” asked Glanni in a playful voice. Ithro rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the desk and closer to Glanni. 

“Because if there’s no but, then you have no use,” said Ithro plainly. He handed the folder back to Ithro, leaving him slightly confused.

“But while Mr. Smalls will be hard to to find, his goods will not,” said Glanni at last, having grown tired of their little cat-and-mouse. “Find his goods, and the merchant himself is bound to show up eventually.”

“And you know where he keeps the stuff?” asked Ithro.

“No,” Glanni began. Ithro was about to fire off a barrage of comments about the criminal’s lack of helpfulness when Glanni held up a hand. “No, but I may know someone who does.”

“May?” asked Ithro, doubt clouding his features. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“The way I see it, it’s the only lead you’ve got,” Glanni replied smugly. “And if she doesn’t know, I have plenty of other informants.”

“She?” Ithro parroted. “Who is she?”

“Someone who doesn’t like to speak with coppers,” said Glanni, looking Ithro up and down. He was far too professional looking to take to her like that. His hems were too well-pressed, the thin stripes of his shirt a little too crisp in color. That and the badge and holster. Simply put, he didn’t look depraved enough to go to her kind of establishment. But with a few wardrobe adjustments here and there, a little dirt on his face and a mussing to his hair… It might be enough. “We’ll have to make a stop before we go see her, though.”

“Oh, no, we will not be stopping anywhere,” said Ithro, brushing his way past Glanni and out the door. Glanni followed, if only to see where he would go. 

They walked through the hall, passing a half dozen doors before they reached the one Ithro was looking for. It was the Chief’s office, as indicated by the stink of cigarette smoke wafting from the slightly opened doorway, along with a few muffled sounds. Glanni knew what was going on inside that room almost instantly, but he was quite bored and wanted to see how this would pan out. Ithro entered without knocking. This would prove to be a mistake. Chief Busybody had her back to the doorway, her jacket tossed carelessly on the floor of the office. But while her back wasn’t up to much, her front was a completely different story. 

Ithro cleared his throat awkwardly. She whirled around at the sound, revealing exactly what her red smudged lips had previously been attached to. Milford was leaning ever so slightly backwards over the desk looking visibly flustered, and not just from having been caught mid-necking with the Chief. She heaved out a loud sigh, the initial shock fading from her face completely. 

“What do you want?” she asked in a breathy and irritated voice, hands planted firmly on her hips.

“Pardon the… uh… intrusion, Chief,” said Ithro, shooting an uncertain look to Milford. He was doing everything in his power to make himself appear smaller. His face was a startlingly bright red color, both from his blushing and the red lipstick marks peppered over his face. “This guy wants us to go see his informant.”

“Then go,” said Chief Busybody in an impatient voice. 

“Yes, but he also wants to make a stop first,” said Ithro, hoping she would side with him. Glanni couldn’t be trusted. He’d probably lead him directly into an ambush. “Something about his informant not wanting to speak to officers.”

“I just wanna get him some clothing that will let him blend in,” said Glanni at last, leaning on the doorframe. The Chief looked him up and down, highly doubting that bright fuschia pants helped anyone blend in. “Not my clothes. New ones. Well… Old ones, but new ones.”

“Then listen to him!” hissed the Chief, leaning forward ever so slightly. “Good grief, it’s his informant. He knows them best. And I believe it. Just keep your wits about you and make sure he always has the binding on his wrist.” She crossed the room, shoving Ithro back out into the hallway. “Take my automobile, but go! Shoo shoo!” Just before she shut the door, she poked her head through the crack and said, “And next time, would you kindly KNOCK? Thank you!”

The door slammed shut, leaving a speechless Ithro staring at it. Glanni at last chuckled somewhat smugly. There was little to him that was so amusing than someone whining to their superior only to be told that they’re being ridiculous. 

“They’ve been sleeping together for years,” said Glanni as Ithro began to move again.

“How do you know?” asked Ithro. He himself had thought that Milford might carry a torch for the Chief, but he had never imagined… That.

“The way they looked at each other when I was being brought in,” Glanni said. “And that snappy suit he was wearing. It’s at least a year old. He doesn’t make enough to afford it; I know the designer. Quite a pretty penny for one. But the Chief could buy it no problem. Sleeping together.”

“You have an excellent sense of perception,” said Ithro genuinely as they made their way around to the lot where the Chief’s automobile was parked. “Too bad you couldn’t use it for something helpful.”

“Oh really?” sad Glanni, attempting to climb into the shotgun seat. “Well, I could probably…”

“No,” said Ithro, holding up a hand. Glanni gave him a questioning look. “You don’t get to sit in the front. Get in the back.”

“Wh… Seriously?” asked Glanni incredulously. 

“First of all, it violates the code,” said Ithro, climbing into the driver’s seat. Glanni sighed and at last obliged, sliding into the middle rear seat. “Secondly, what part of I don’t trust you do you not get?”

“Well, there is one thing you should trust me with,” said Glanni as they began to putter out of the lot and into the mostly empty street. 

“Oh really? And what might that be?”

“What colors match your eyes best,” said Glanni in a somewhat flirtatious voice. “Head to 27 West Lane. The people there will hook us up with some new threads. Then I can take you to her.” 

Ithro didn’t know what to expect at the address Glanni gave him, but a sweet couple and their nine-year-old daughter hadn’t been high on his list of possibilities. Glanni had entered the simple brick townhouse without even knocking, much to Ithro’s dismay. 

“Steve! Ella! I need a favor!” he yelled into the seemingly empty house. Footsteps were heard immediately, rushing down the stairs. First a man appeared, a bit on the chubby side with blond curls and a broad smile. The woman was more waifish, with a long black braid. Most surprising the little girl, with a short crop of black curls and a gap-toothed grin. She rushed forward, clamping her arms around Glanni’s waist. “Hey, Robin! Long time, no see. How’s school been, Squirt?”

“I told my teacher that if she tried to take a switch to me, that you’d come and hurt her,” said Robin, her tone cheery. Ithro was horrified. “She didn’t believe me.”

“Well, then, looks like I’ll need to have words with her,” said Glanni, ruffling Robin’s hair. 

“No, you won’t,” said Ithro sternly. He looked around at the family and their home. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. It appeared to be a standard home. Nothing too fancy, nothing too run-down. Nothing like the dens of mob members Ithro had seen countless times. “If you don’t mind my asking, how do you know each other?”

“Oh, Glanni’s and old friend,” said Ella with a smile. “Saved us from going bankrupt when I was pregnant with Robin. Steve was out a job and we were living on the streets.” She crossed to Glanni, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Hooked Steve up with a decent paying job and helped us get this place.” She looked to Ithro. “Say what you will about his career choices, he’s a very generous man.”

Ithro didn’t quite know how to respond to that. As he understood it, there was probably much more to the story than they were letting on. Steve was most likely working for Glanni in the Mayhemtown gang and just didn’t tell Ella about it. Which was for the best anyways. 

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you all,” said Ithro politely. He turned to Glanni. “But how exactly are they supposed to get me undercover clothes?”

“Oh, that’s what you need?” said Steve. He waved for Glanni and Ithro to follow him, back up the stairs. The two followed. “I’m a tailor by trade. People bring me clothes to mend all the time. I usually have what Glanni needs. But it’s strictly for lending. Don’t got wild. I don’t want to have to fix the clothes a second time.”

“That was one time, Steve,” said Glanni in a begrudging tone. 

Steve chuckled as he led the two into what was obviously his work room. There was an armoire against the back wall, beside a work table. On that sat a sewing machine, several pin cushions, and a pile of various bits and bobs. Buttons, patches, spools of thread, stuff like that. Steve crossed to a trunk opposite the wall of mirrors and threw it open. Then he looked back to his guests. 

“What are you looking for?” he asked. Ithro was about to step forward, but Glanni placed a hand on his chest. 

“No, no, let me do this,” said Glanni before joining Steve at the chest. “Looking at you, you wouldn’t know what kind of aesthetic you need for the place we’re going.”

“What kind of what?” asked Ithro. He got no response. 

Glanni dug through the pile of clothing, sometimes holding up a shirt or pair of pants, always to put it back. Ithro thought this whole thing was a complete waste of time, watching the other two men sift through clothing. Finally, Glanni pulled out an off-white button up and a somewhat worn pair of brown pants. It would do. Without warning, he turned and tossed both the articles of clothing to Ithro. Being unprepared, he failed to catch them and instead got hit in the face with them.

“Go put those on,” said Glanni with no hint of remorse. In fact, when Ithro pulled the shirt from his face, the moron was sporting an amused smile. “Ella can help you with your hair after while Robin gets some accessories to complete the look.”

“This is ridiculous,” said Ithro before leaving the room. “Why are we wasting time playing dressup?”

“I already told you, Officer. This is what has to be done. Now go put it on,” said Glanni. Ithro huffed before leaving the room at last. Heaving a sigh, Glanni plopped himself down on a nearby stool. “No respect for fashion. Unacceptable.”

“A cop, Glanni?” asked Steve, a slight smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Far be it from me to judge you, but I doubt taking one on as a conquest is your brightest move.”

“Conquest? Hardly,” said Glanni, rolling his eyes. “I got caught.”

“Really? You got caught? How?” asked Steve.

Glanni didn’t really want to tell that story. It was a lot of pathetic stuff. Glanni reached into his pocket, pulling out a small blue ribbon. He didn’t have to say anything about it. Steve already knew. 

“Oh…” was all he could say. “You did mention you were going drinking.”

“Yeah, and I passed out in an alley,” said Glanni, voice hardening. He crammed the ribbon back into his pocket. “That’s where they found me. Some officer’s getting a promotion today, I’d imagine. Now I’m trapped with that guy ‘til we bump off the other four.”

“Yikes,” said Steve. His face was genuinely sympathetic. 

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, you’re not gonna… follow through, are you?”

“Do you mean am I planning a little dramatic betrayal?” asked Glanni, one eyebrow quirked. 

“I’m not encouraging you to, I’m just expecting it, is all,” Steve replied, holding his hands up. 

“I’m still mulling it over,” Glanni admitted. “He could be… useful. But only if things pan out the way I’m hoping they do.” He smiled wistfully down at his lap. “She did always say we needed an out…” The smile faded as he looked back up. “This could be our out.”

“You do what you need to,” said Steve encouragingly. “And, hey. Give her my regards when you find her.”

Glanni couldn’t help but smile and share in Steve’s optimism. Still it had been three weeks and the chances of finding her were slimmer with each day that passed. No, no. He refused to think about it. It had nothing to do with his immediate plans. Get to Coup de Foudre, talk to his informant, then take out Mr. Smalls. Whether he betrayed Ithro in the end or not was irrelevant to that. Having Mr. Smalls out of the way was beneficial for him either way. Luckily, he didn’t have to think about it for much longer. 

Ithro came back into the room, looking highly unamused, but much less cop-like. The cut of both the shirt and pants complimented his build well. But he was still missing the overall look of depravity he needed. Glanni approached him, appraising him from all angles.

“Roll your sleeves up,” he said at last. Ithro gave him a look of a man completely fed up. Glanni wasn’t in the mood for his nonsense. “Look, just roll the sleeves up. We’re almost done here.”

Never breaking his glare toward Glanni, Ithro did so. 

“There. Can we go now?” asked Ithro. 

“You just need a few more adjustments,” said Glanni honestly. “Suspenders, a hat, and… Yep, that’ll be all.”

“I hate you so much right now,” said Ithro under his breath. Glanni heard. 

“I feel indifferent towards you,” said Glanni. “Now quit your whining, this is a part of the job, just for today.”

Once he had gotten the aforementioned accessories, the two made their way in silence (despite Glanni’s best efforts) to the lounge. Ithro was more than a little at a loss for words.

“She works here,” said Glanni, making his way in the doors. Ithro trailed behind. He’d heard tell of seedy lounges such as this one but he’d never actually been to one. The front of it looked a lot like a theatre, but the inside was quite a different story. It was mostly empty, though the dinner crowd was likely to arrive in the next few hours. There was a bar, a small stage, tables completely set. Glanni made his way to the bar. The gruff looking man standing behind it seemed to recognize him. “Hey, there, Brad. Needa speak with the siren.”

“She’s in her dressing room,” said Brad, looking Ithro up and down. “He your new bodyguard or something?”

“He’s an idiot,” said Glanni. 

“Hey!” Ithro exclaimed indignantly. 

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” said Glanni. He began to make his way around the bar, to a door that read ‘Employees only’. “She’s gonna have all the answers we need.”

“I think I’ve waited long enough. Who the hell is she?” asked Ithro, his curiosity at last getting the better of him. 

Glanni didn’t answer as they made their way past doorways. Finally, they reached one with a gold star painted on it. Glanni knocked ceremoniously. The door flew open. There stood a small, ginger-haired, freckled, half-dressed, and very angry looking woman. 

“Look, Jerome, I told ya…” Her anger dimmed upon seeing Glanni in the doorway. “Well, well, well. Would ya look at what the cat dragged in.”

“You look exactly the same as I left you, Tallulah,” said Glanni, stepping into the dressing room. Ithro hung back. If his grandmother knew that he’d entered a lady’s dressing room, she’d be livid. It wasn’t proper. Glanni sensed Ithro’s hesitation. “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. Get in.”

Hesitantly, Ithro stepped inside. Tallulah shut the door behind him. She made no attempt to cover herself further with her billowy pink robe. Underneath she wore only her undergarments. They were jet-black; a girdle, stockings, a brassiere, and Ithro could only hope there were panties underneath the skirt of the girdle. 

“Well, Glanni, what can I do you for?” asked Tallulah, plopping down at her vanity table. Glanni immediately made himself comfortable on the slightly worn fainting couch opposite the vanity table. There wasn’t much else in the room, just an open armoire jammed to bursting with dresses of all colors and lengths, and a small end table with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of red roses resting on top. It was quite a claustrophobic space. 

“Mr. Smalls. I need to know where the fellow’s been storing his substances,” said Glanni, helping himself to a chocolate. 

“Really?” asked Tallulah, hurriedly combing her hair. “And why is that?”

“Business, as usual,” said Glanni in a conversational tone.

“Well, as of late, most of the stuff’s been sent in from a warehouse by the docks,” said Tallulah, pinning her hair this way and that. She hurriedly reached for her blush pot, dabbing some on her cheeks. Glanni shot Tallulah a look, one that was complex in it’s meaning. Ithro couldn’t tell what it was meant to convey. Tallulah saw it in the mirror, the swiveled around. “It’s not for me, Glanni. It was Jerome.” Her expression sobered. “You know I ain’t touched that stuff in over a year.” Then she smiled. “I’m clean as a whistle, thanks to you.” She turned back to her vanity, draping a string of pearls around her neck. “Your best bet is to get there, and quickly, ‘fore he packs up to avoid the coppers. It’s the only warehouse by the docks so you’d have to really be a dimwit to miss it.”

“Thanks, Tallulah,” said Glanni, snatching another chocolate. Before he took a bite, he rose from the couch and placed a kiss on Tallulah’s cheek. “Which ensemble are you wearing tonight?”

“The yellow one,” said Tallulah with a wry grin. Glanni rolled his eyes. “Hey now, I can’t always wear the green one.”

“But it brings out your eyes,” said Glanni in a somewhat whiny voice. She sighed, opening her drawer of lipsticks. “Wear the orangey pink lipstick, then. It’ll really pop. And sing your heart out up there.”

“I always do,” she said knowingly. “Now, get! I dunno what you plan to do, but it’s gotta be better than making me late for the show.”

“Alright, alright, we’re leaving,” said Glanni apologetically. He and Ithro made their way from the room, shutting the door behind them. “You heard her. To the docks it is.”

“Is she an… old friend?” asked Ithro, his voice coming across as teasing despite himself. Glanni seemed appalled by this. “What?”

“She is about half my age. No,” said Glanni, shaking his head. “Old friend, yes. Most definitely an old friend. Old lover? You disgust me.”

Ithro figured it was wisest not to speak after that. Besides, they knew where they were going, and that was all that mattered. They were one step closer to being rid of each other. And that would truly be a blessed day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Ithro. You will never be completely rid of Glanni. 
> 
> I apologize in advance for the crappy action sequences in the next chapter. I never was good at them. But the story will be rich, it's all good. 
> 
> See y'all in a few days!
> 
> P.S: I thrive on validation. Plx leave a comment. I beg of you. It will warm my little heart. Love you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I may have fixed the crappy action sequences by just not having any at all. One day I shall master the art of having action that doesn't sound like; and then he stabbed a guy in the face but another guy came at him from with a gun, but he whipped around and punched him real good. No one wants to read that. Or maybe you do. Who knows?  
> But anyway, Glanni using his wiles to get out of these situations is much more realistic. 
> 
> Thanks everyone who showed up out of nowhere and validated tf out of me. I was the happiest bean all day! Really, I adore every single comment so keep it up!
> 
> Now, without further ado, the thing you actually came here for! Have a good time!

There were several things about his current predicament that made Glanni feel like screaming. For one, he’d gone years doing much riskier endeavours and coming just within a hair’s breadth of getting arrested, and he finally got taken in because he fell asleep in an alley. It was humiliating. For another, this elf he’d been forced to work with was… insufferable. Not even so much as a sarcastic grin in the last couple hours. To be fair, he was just as reluctant to work with Ithro. Though he had to admit, he had been saddled with much less attractive people. After Steve and Ella’s place, the guy looked even better, all rugged and chiseled. Very much Glanni’s type. However, humorless sticks in the mud were much less his type. And since that’s what Ithro was underneath that scrumptious-looking exterior, Glanni counted him as very much a reason to scream. 

A third reason reared its ugly head as the police cruiser got ever closer to the docks. His stomach dropped as he realized which way Ithro was taking them. Straight through the poorer part of town, a part he hadn’t seen in many years. Cedar Street was infamous for just how decrepit the whole thing was, The buildings looked the same. Broken windows, crumbling roofs, chimneys completely fallen off. The burnt out house on the end of the street was still there, like an ugly black scar. 

Garbage littered the curb, shifty looking men and women milling about for lack of anything better to do. Children, mythic and human, were running around, playing anywhere they so desired. It wasn’t as though anyone was going to stop them. Glanni knew that much. He had lived it, after all. He and Ana both…

Glanni had never gotten the full story of what had happened to his parents. It wasn’t uncommon for orphans to simply appear on Cedar Street. But he wasn’t so sure he was an orphan. He had been passed around from house to house for as long as he could remember. The Thomson’s, a family of shifters, had always been kind to him. He stayed with them the most growing up. He would have stayed with them all the time, but for the fact that they kept falling on hard times. They could hardly afford to feed the two children they already had in those times. But there was always another neighbour, always another bed and another person willing to at least begrudgingly feed him once a day. The Thomson’s no longer lived on Cedar Street. Not for several years. Glanni had seen to that. 

Out of all the orphans of Cedar Street, Ana had always been the malcontent. She didn’t play with the other kids often. She mostly kept to herself. Not because she looked down on the other children or anything. She simply valued her personal space, and peace and quiet. Glanni could respect that. She was the only faery besides Glanni on Cedar Street, at least at the time that they had started becoming friends. He couldn’t really remember, looking back on it, exactly when they’d made the transition from acquaintances who sometimes spoke, to genuine friends. It just unfolded so gradually, his memories couldn’t pinpoint an exact day. But the day he supposed it became apparent, that he could remember.

It had been what Glanni assumed to be around two in the morning. He’d been fortunate enough to sleep on a cot in the Thomson’s attic at the time. It was late December, hastily made Christmas decorations hanging in every home. Only a few days remained until the big day itself. Glanni would have slept through the night if not for the incessant knocking on the window. It startled him at first, until he saw a faint golden glow, and Ana’s face illuminated by it. Still groggy, he’d padded to the window, throwing it open.

“Come to the roof with me,” said Ana the moment the window was open. 

“You what now?” asked Glanni, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Who cares? Just come on!” said Ana insistently. Glanni sighed. As he’d come to know Ana better, he knew that to refuse her would be a grave mistake. With a huff, he threw on a housecoat and a pair of slippers. He knew he would likely still be freezing, but he could deal with that when Ana wasn’t breathing down his neck. When he made his way back to the window, Ana was still hovering there looking very unimpressed. “Gods, you take forever.”

“You of all people should know how hard it is to wedge your wings into… Y’know what it doesn’t matter,” said Glanni, shaking his head. Ana rose higher, presumably landing on the roof. Glanni climbed up onto the windowsill, then let himself drop. His wings caught him mere seconds later. Swivelling around, he joined Ana on the gabled roof. It was covered in an ankle-deep layer of snow. “So, what exactly is this about?”

“I got you something,” said Ana. She reached into the pocket of the much too big jacket she was wearing. A moment later, she tossed a small pot of honey to him. He caught it, then gave her a quizzical look. “I know it’s early and all, but I wasn’t gonna get another chance to get a jar and I didn’t wanna wait to give it to you. You think I wasn’t gonna get you a Christmas present or something? 

“What? No, it’s just…” he began. He was going to ask how she’d got it. He was going to ask why. He was going to apologize for not getting her anything. Instead, he smiled. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” said Ana. Glanni opened the seal on the glass jar. They had no utensils of any kind, but Glanni just dipped his finger right in. Sucking the sweet syrupy goodness from his finger, he extended the pot to Ana. She didn’t even bother with modesty. She dug right in. 

“Y’know, say what you will about the Courts, but if humans being afraid of the fae means more honey for me, I am absolutely on board for it,” said Glanni, dipping his finger in a second time. Ana chuckled.

“I’d like to visit the Court…” said Ana wistfully, looking out over the city skyline. Glanni watched her appraisingly, still sucking on his finger. “Just once. I hear they have feasts every night, with all the food you can eat. And there’s markets, huge markets, with anything you could want all right there. And they don’t ask you for money you don’t have. It’s a world made for the fae, not like here. We’d be living large.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” said Glanni, pulling his housecoat tighter around himself. “You’d have to find them first.”

“We could do it,” said Ana, her voice confident. She lost the faraway look in her eye, digging in for more honey. “Just gotta get some supplies. I’ve been reading up on surviving in the wild. I think we could make it.”

“Well, we’ll have to go when we’re older,” said Glanni absently. He said it as one might say that they would read a book a friend recommended; they could, but they probably wouldn’t. 

“Promise it,” said Ana, voice serious again. She looked into Glanni’s eyes with a deadly seriousness. She shuffled until she was kneeling facing him. “Promise me that we’ll go to the courts someday.”

“Okay,” Glanni began, reaching for more honey. Ana’s hand shot out, ripping the pot from his fingers. “Hey!”

“No, no, not like that. Promise me,” said Ana, setting the pot aside. She extended her left hand, held up as though she wanted to arm-wrestle. Glanni matched her posture, kneeling and taking her left hand in his right. 

“I swear to you,” said Glanni, the chill of the winter wind dimming as old magic was stirred up around the two. He had never made a fae promise before, but he knew how it worked. It was binding. To break a fae promise was to unravel oneself. “I swear that as soon as we can, we will find the courts, and we will spend a night there, feasting and dancing and visiting the goblin markets and whatever else. I swear it.”

Glanni felt heavier as the promise weighed on the back of his mind. It was set now. And that weight wouldn’t lift until it was fulfilled. Ana seemed satisfied now, settling back into a more comfortable position and grabbing the honeypot again. Glanni followed her example, reaching for more honey. 

“I have a promise for you, too,” said Ana after a moment of silence.

“Really?” said Glanni inquisitively. She nodded.

“I swear that until we both get sick to death of each other, I’ll always be there for you when you need me,” she said. The same rousing sensation of magic, along with a faint scent of burnt sugar, swept over them again. Glanni seemed to feel the weight of her promise much more strongly than his own. So. They were kind of stuck with each other now. Glanni felt… comforted by this fact. Ana leaned against Glanni, more using him as a pillow than anything else. “‘Cause it’s not like we got anyone else to look out for us. Just us.”

Glanni would have mentioned the Thomson’s or any number of the other neighbours who fed and clothed and housed the two of them, but in the moment, he just like the feeling of belonging and solidarity. It was almost poetic; two street urchins, together against the world. He rather liked the sound of it. And now they were bound by their promises. He could only hope they didn’t grow to regret them.

The weight of his promise was still there. It was less noticeable, since he’d been carrying it since he was thirteen, but it was most assuredly there. Now there were several more hurdles he would have to jump in order to keep that vow, but that wouldn’t stop him. He was jolted back to the present as the warehouse Tallulah had mentioned came into view. A few of the lights were on, but beyond that, it didn’t seem like much. 

“So, Officer,” said Glanni at last. “How do you wanna approach this?”

Ithro peered out the window at the nearby warehouse. All seemed quiet. Of course, there was no guarantee that the boss himself was inside. 

“Do you think he’s in there?” asked Ithro. Glanni leaned in to get a better view, but quickly concluded that there was no possibly way they’d be able to tell from the outside. 

“Hard to say,” he’d said at last. “There are two options that I can think of.”

“Enlighten me,” said Ithro.

“Well, we can go in. Since I’m quite certain that it’s not common knowledge that I’ve been caught. They may take me seriously enough to either take us to Mr. Smalls, or just let us wait inside,” said Glanni. Ithro acknowledged his words with a nod, but said nothing. Glanni went on. “Or, we can wait out here, and hope we can catch him coming in or out. Which is a bit riskier, since he’ll probably have guards with him.”

“Hmm,” said Ithro. He wasn’t sure which way to go about this. He wanted to keep the damage to a minimum. He didn’t like to hurt people, even ones with pistols aimed at his head. He wasn’t sure if it was a natural elf thing, or something that came about because of his personality. He didn’t really care either. He just wanted the most people to walk away today as possible. Which way would give him that? “Do you think you could pull it off? If we went in there?”

“Please, I could pull off pretending to be an eighty-seven year old nun named Florence,” said Glanni haughtily. Ithro only rolled his eyes. “So we’re going in?”

Ithro didn’t say anything in response, merely climbed out of the cruiser. Luckily they were parked well past a safe distance away, so that the automobile couldn’t be recognized. Ithro was glad for the small pistol tucked into his waistband. He may not have wanted anyone to get hurt, but he wanted to be able to defend himself even more than that. Glanni was hyper-aware of the thick piece of twine bound against his left wrist. Thanks to that, if things got hairy he’d have to rely on the elf to defend him. Unless…

“Before we go in,” said Glanni, stopping in his tracks. Ithro paused, giving him a quizzical look. He held up the magic-dampening binding. “You think you could take this off? Y’know, in case this all goes horribly wrong.”

“I see your concern,” said Ithro sincerely, “But I sure as hell am not waltzing into the den of a drug lord with another crime boss that has every excuse to turn on me. I’ll take that off when I know I can trust you.”

“Just so you know,” said Glanni through gritted teeth as he recommenced walking. “If we die cause we got backed into a corner I could’ve gotten us out of easily if I had my powers, I will come back and kill you again.”

“But I’ll be dead too,” said Ithro, unintentionally playing along. “How can you kill me if I am also dead?”

“Oh, trust me, I would find a way,” said Glanni, voice serious. 

Maybe it was from nerves or maybe it was because he accidentally let his tough act slip, but Ithro actually laughed. Glanni was a little taken aback. So. The brute did have a sense of humour. As they carried on to the door of the warehouse, Glanni couldn’t help but think that things between the two of them were going to get a lot more interesting from that point on. 

Glanni was the one who pounded his fist against the warehouse door, making certain Ithro was standing behind him. He wanted whoever opened the door to see his face first, so that the lie would be just a little bit more believable. The man who opened the door was clearly a shifter, based on his golden eyes. He made Glanni think of an Egyptian god. An interesting thought. 

“Pleasure to meet you. It’s Rikki Riki. I’m just wondering, is Mr. Smalls in?” asked Glanni straight away, grinning widely. 

“Boss doesn’t like to speak to his dealers,” was all the man said. His accent was difficult to place, but nonetheless pleasant. 

“I’m aware,” Glanni replied honestly. Trying to so much as get a note in response from Mr. Smalls had been like pulling teeth. “I simply needed to speak with him about a new shipment of Blue Glass I received last week.”

“Write to his office,” said the man. He began to close the door.

“Don’t you think I would’ve tried that before trudging down here to talk face to face? I need answers and I won’t leave until I have them,” said Glanni forcefully. It was enough to cause the man to hesitate. This was normally where Glanni would have given the man a nudge. A light glamour. That’s all it would take. Just the teeny tiniest of taps. But he couldn’t do even so little as that. 

Luckily, Ithro was paying attention. While elf glamours may not have been as powerful or precise as fae glamours, this current situation didn’t need either of those things. It was simple. The barest tingle in his fingers, the faintest scent of petrichor and mountain air, and the barest nudge in the right direction. The man’s expression changed. Not drastically, but enough. He pulled the door open further, standing aside for the two to enter. 

“The boss is in his office,” said the man, closing the door behind them. He gestured to a row of windows on the second floor. “Up there. Just take the stairs, it’s the only door.”

“I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you,” said Glanni, with a gentle pat on the man’s back. He and Ithro made their way through the enormous space. Most of it was taken up by crates and pallets of every drug imaginable; human or otherwise. Only a handful of people were milling around, seemingly counting and sorting bags and boxes. Ithro couldn’t stop staring despite himself. He’d never seen that much all at once. But he had seen the effects of such terrible things. People thin and pale, sunken eyes and hollow cheeks. They sat in street corners, half-coherent and babbling about the light. At least, those were the ones on Blue Glass. It got much uglier the stronger the drug. Ithro clenched his fists. Glanni noticed. “Relax, you’re gonna catch their attention like that.”

“We need to do something about all this,” Ithro murmured back. 

“We could take some and I could sell the rest,” Glanni replied. Ithro gave him a highly unamused look. Glanni rolled his eyes. “I’m not serious, yeesh. I’ll figure something out when we get up there.”

The two began to climb the steps. Ithro cast a wary glance backwards. None of the various mythics and humans seemed to be against them doing so. Still, he didn’t relax. At the very top of the steps, there was a door, coppery-red paint peeling away. Glanni gave it a light tug, but he only managed to open it a fraction of an inch. The damn thing must’ve weighed about twenty pounds. He hadn’t been expecting it.

“Having troubles?” asked Ithro teasingly. Glanni shot him a glare.

“Shut it,” he hissed. He gave the door a much stronger pull, opening it wide enough to step inside. Ithro was close behind.

The room behind the door was simple. Not much in it; a carpet, a desk, an odd painting of a bouquet of dead daffodils leaning sideways against the wall. There were two doors on the opposite wall. One hung open, the room beyond too dark to see anything inside. The other was closed. A golden plaque on the door sported the drug lord’s name. Glanni made his way to it. 

“Wait,” said Ithro before Glanni could give the first knock. He turned back around, one eyebrow raised in questioning. “What’s your plan?”

“Well, as soon as I think of one, you’ll be the first to know,” said Glanni, much to Ithro’s dismay. 

He proceeded, giving the door three sharp raps. It opened seconds later. Glanni was a little taken aback. The man on the other side of the door was tall. Not quite as tall as Glanni, but still tall. Everything about him was dark, his suit, his eyes, his shoulder-length hair, his skin. His features were wideset. If it weren’t for circumstances, he would have a different goal in mind going into this office. Still, he had a mission. Whether or not he betrayed Ithro in the end (which he wasn’t completely sold on yet), getting rid of Mr. Smalls left an opening for his gang to become the top dealers in the area. There was only one thought Glanni had on that matter: $$$$$.

“Who are you?” asked Mr. Smalls, his voice carrying an accent Glanni couldn’t identify. 

“Rikki Riki. We’ve done business for several years,” said Glanni, already tired of introducing himself. Still, he kept a disarming smile. This was easy, considering the eye candy in front of him.

“What do you want?” he asked. Not in an irritated tone, just a curious question.

“May I come in and speak with you?” asked Glanni. Mr. Smalls took a step backwards, not so Glanni could come in. Almost warily. He shot a glance to Ithro. Glanni held up his hands. “Don’t worry, he won’t be coming along.” He pivoted his head, giving Ithro a knowing look. “I’m sure he can find something to do while we chat, right Fabrizio?”

“F-” Ithro began indignantly. But Glanni had given him his cover, whether he liked it or not was irrelevant. “Sure thing.... Boss…”

He shuddered to even say the word. Glanni smiled smugly, then turned back to Mr. Smalls. 

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the room. Mr. Smalls gave him a once-over, then stood aside allowing Glanni to enter. Glanni gave one last look to Ithro. “Behave, won’t you?”

Ithro only nodded in response. The door closed, leaving him alone in the strange room. He gave the room another look. There was nothing more to it that he hadn’t seen. However that dark room did have his curiosity. Ithro approached with a mild caution, poking into the doorway. He had no idea what to expect. The room was cold, a little damp. It smelled of an old basement, which Ithro hadn’t anticipated. 

It reminded him of the basement of his childhood home, if only in atmosphere. He had always dreaded going down there. His father knew that, and still he kept sending him there to fetch tools or firewood or to spend the night because he’d displeased him in some way. To this day, the dark still made him incredibly uneasy. This room made him incredibly uneasy. 

With bated breath, Ithro made his way into the room. He felt the darkness around him like a vice. The rational side of him tried to tell his heart to calm itself, but that primal child deep in his mind kept conjuring images of the same old monsters. Decades later, and the same things still got the same fright out of him. Quickly, he reached up for the pendant of the light, giving it a sharp yank. He was on edge, braced for the worst. All of that felt completely ridiculous when the light was on. All that the room contained were shelves filled with odds and ends; cans of food, the odd wine bottle, paper, pencils, a few guns, a book of matches, boxes of ammunition, an out of place book of poetry, a barrel of gasoline…

Suddenly, Ithro had an idea. A terrible, dangerous, stupid idea. But he just might be able to pull it off. He lunged for the book of matches.

***

“Lovely operation you have here,” said Glanni. Mr Smalls stood against the wall, arms folded. He barely acknowledged the words with a nod. Glanni’s eyes landed on a little set of glassware, the square bottle clearly holding whiskey. He made his way to the tray. It wasn’t much of a distance. The office was barely larger than Tallulah’s dressing room. He gave a look to Mr. Smalls. “May I?” He nodded again. Glanni poured himself a glass, then one for his silent host. He extended the glass to the man, who took it without a word. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Not anymore,” said Mr. Smalls, voice deadly serious. Glanni was almost afraid to ask. Mr. Smalls took a drink from his glass. “You said you wanted to speak. Speak.”

“Well…” said Glanni, settling himself into one of the comfy chairs in front of the desk. He took a moment to survey what he had to work with. The desk was littered with paper and envelopes. They covered almost the entire thing, stacked up in one corner. Glanni caught sight of a glint of silver peeking out from under one of the pieces of paper. He couldn’t grab it without alerting Mr. Smalls, and he was closer to the door. He could get away. It was too risky. He needed to be distracted. Well, he could easily arrange that. Glanni shifted his position so he draped on the chair in a much more… titillating manner. “I’ll level with you, one powerful man to another. I’ve always admired your tactics, Mr… Actually, if you don’t mind my asking, what’s your first name?” 

“Ezekiel,” said Mr. Smalls, seeming to have caught onto what Glanni was doing. At least, the outward appearance of it. He stepped forward, much less reserved than before. “Friends call me Zeke.”

“Well, Zeke…” said Glanni, letting the name drawl out. Zeke leaned against the chair, the barest traces of a smile on the edges of his mouth. Glanni leaned forward, taking another slow sip of the whiskey. “I have to say, you’re not what I was expecting. Much more… interesting.”

“As are you,” said Zeke. Glanni smiled, eyes half-lidded. 

“Oh, honey,” said Glanni, lifting himself up until his face was mere inches beneath Zeke’s. “You have no idea.”

Glanni didn’t go in for a kiss. He wanted Zeke to do it, just so that he knew his flirtations were effective. As always, he was victorious. Zeke placed a long-fingered hand on Glanni’s cheek and leaned in, lips gently pressing against his. Glanni reached out, placing the glass of whiskey on the edge of the desk. Zeke’s seemingly disappeared. Glanni bunched his fingers in Zeke’s curls, pulling himself up until the two were on the same level. Zeke deepened the kiss, pulling Glanni in closer. 

Sliding off the chair, Glanni rose, kissing Zeke again. Blindly, the two stumbled backwards, Glanni’s legs hitting against the desk. He opened his eyes, peeking sideways. He couldn’t see the letter-opener. He needed a better vantage point. Playing coy, Glanni suddenly turned Zeke around, pulling him down and slamming his wrists against the desk. Zeke seemed to be highly pleased by this, grinning fully now. The glass tumbled from the desk, spilling whiskey all over the carpet. Zeke didn’t even notice.

“Close your eyes,” said Glanni. He happily obliged. Glanni, began kissing along his jaw, all the while moving papers around until his fingers grazed the letter-opener. 

Just as his hand closed down around it, Zeke reached out, pulling Glanni down on top of him. Deftly, his fingers began to undo Glanni’s buttons. He had to play along, kissing Zeke fervently. But he had it in his hand. He had it and he should just kill him already and he was going to do it and… and… Zeke’s leg lifted slightly, his thigh coming into contact with Glanni’s groin. The gentle grinding was enough to distract him. The barest hints of arousal began to poke through and now Glanni was kissing him as more than just a distraction. He could just as well kill him afterwards, right?

As Glanni began to settle in for a good time, a loud crashing and yelling was heard from downstairs. Zeke tensed, breaking the kiss.

“What was that?” he asked. Desperate to regain control of this situation, Glanni smiled seductively.

“Who cares?” he replied, leaning in to kiss him again. But Zeke had lost all interest. He wriggled out from underneath Glanni, making his way to the door. 

Glanni hastily followed as he made his way through the door to the row of windows. The two men looked on as Ithro splashed the contents of the large black barrel over the few remaining dry pallets. The other workers were nowhere in sight. Zeke turned back to him, eyes blazing in anger. This was the moment, before he had a chance to react, that Glanni drove the letter opener deep into Zeke’s throat. Blood spurted from the wound, landing in flecks on his face. Zeke gargled, an almost surprised sound. He yanked the letter opener out, leaving the other man to choke on his blood on the floor. He waited until he was certain the unfortunate drug lord was dead before bursting through the heavy door and racing down the stairs. 

“What the hell, Ithro?!” he yelled, tossing the letter opener aside. Ithro looked Glanni up and down; tousled hair, exposed chest, bloody face. 

“What the hell yourself,” said Ithro, pulling the book of matches from his pocket. “Why is your shirt open?”

“Well, I had to distract him somehow, now didn’t I?” asked Glanni defensively. Ithro’s eyes widened, catching the meaning immediately. It wasn’t that he was bothered by it so much, just that while he’d been down here facing off against a half-dozen armed people, Glanni had been upstairs doing all the easy work. “And what were you thinking? Were you just gonna light the place up with me still inside? Fat lot of good that would do you, you still need my help to find the others!”

“No!” said Ithro incredulously. “I thought you were just going to take him inside and off him and then I’d…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, since when was lighting the place on fire the plan?” asked Glanni, buttoning his shirt back up. 

“Since now,” said Ithro simply. He began to walk towards the door, a slick trail of what was obviously gasoline tracing a path all the way there. “Are you alright?”

“I’d be a hell of a lot better if you hadn’t decided to suddenly become an arsonist,” Glanni snapped. He wasn’t offended, just a little disappointed, that was all. He gave the room a once-over. The workers were gone, that much was obvious, but there were no bodies either. “Where did the goons go?”

“I told them if they all booked it, I would keep the officers off their trail and not burn them to death,” said Ithro. He poked his head out the main door. Just as he suspected, all the workers were gone, the stragglers just barely visible on their way back into town. Glanni got as far away from the door as he could. Ithro lit a match, and tossed it inside the door. The flames caught immediately, spreading out on every available surface. Ithro let the door close, then began walking back to the cruiser. “So, that’s one down. Three to go.”

“Hey, you don’t suppose now that I’ve proved that I can be trusted…” he began. Ithro shot him a glare immediately. Glanni heaved a sigh. “I knew that would be too easy.” 

“Do you suppose Tallulah will know where the next boss is?” asked Ithro absently as he opened the door to the cruiser. 

“Who?” asked Glanni, climbing into the backseat.

“The leader of the East End vampires,” said Ithro. “That bonkers one that calls herself Marie Antoinette.”

“Oh, Norma?” asked Glanni as they began to drive off. “I have her exact address.”

“What is it?” Ithro asked right away. 

“Well, I don’t know it. That’s why I said I have it. She invites me to balls all the time,” said Glanni. “I have an invitation that has her address.”

“Where?” Ithro glanced into the rearview mirror and was greeted by Glanni’s devious smile. 

“My place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was longer than I was anticipating, but I think precisely none of us are complaining. Heck, ye, more story than expected! 
> 
> As previously stated, the next chapter should be done within the next three days, max. It's not gonna have as much to it. I don't think. Who knows, more plot may creep up on me than I was planning for. And then you guys can have a field day. How fun. 
> 
> Thanks for joining me for this chapter. See y'all next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was right, it was short.
> 
> I really jumped the shark on this one, I just wanted to make a point.
> 
> But anyways, here it is. The beginnings of the gay. Enjoy.

Honestly, Ithro was more than a little surprised. Glanni was one of the top crime bosses in the area. It should have gone without saying that he would spend those ridiculous amounts of money on a ridiculously large house. But instead, Glanni directed him towards one of the admittedly better-off areas of town. Still, it was no palace of Versailles. It was a nice house, but just a house nonetheless. It had a fairytale cottage appearance, with the walls being made of white cement with large support beams visible in them. The door was made of a dark wood, with a small stained glass window set into it. The yard was littered with trees, their leaves just growing back after the winter. The ethereal look was completed by the golden rays of the setting sun. Glanni sauntered up the cobblestone walkway, glad to at last be home.

“I have to admit,” said Ithro, stepping inside, “I was expecting something more… expensive.”

“Oh, please,” said Glanni, crossing into the living room. The whole home seemed to be keeping with the fairytale feel, with vibrant colors and victorian furnishings. Glanni made his way across the forest green rug to a brass gramophone on an end table. “You think all this furniture didn’t cost an arm and a leg?”

Before Ithro could respond, Glanni gave the crank on the gramophone a generous few turns. He lowered the needle onto the record. Instantly, the sounds of stringed instruments poured from the funnel, enveloping the two in a haunting melody. Ithro recognized the piece. It was one of his favourites. Still the volume of the music was a little off-putting. Glanni smiled dreamily and sighed contentedly. Nothing like a little Schubert to ease his nerves. He made his way to the archway between the kitchen and the living room. 

“The invitations are all upstairs,” said Glanni, speaking loud enough to be heard over the song. “Wait here.” Before Ithro could protest, Glanni held up a hand. “I’ll be back. It’s not like I’d get far without my magic.”

That much was true. Besides, Glanni had no intentions of escaping. He had to admit, this was a fair bit more amusing than he’d first anticipated it being. He simply didn’t want to be disturbed. Ithro begrudgingly took a seat on the deep plum colored couch.

“Oh,” said Glanni, poking his head back into the living room. “And don’t touch my anything.”

Glanni once again ducked out of the room. As soon as his footsteps faded up the stairs, Ithro rose from the couch. He was uncomfortable. He shouldn’t have let Glanni go alone, a rookie mistake Chief Busybody would have had him flayed for. Ithro’s eyes began sweeping over the room. There was an old trunk sitting against the wall, underneath a painting of a village in a forest. There were also cabinets and a china cupboard and a bookshelf and that trunk was just too compelling. If Glanni saw him going through it, he could say something about it being police business. He just couldn’t help himself. He fell to his knees, throwing open the lid of the trunk.

While Ithro sated his curiosity downstairs, Glanni wasn’t upstairs looking for one of the countless invitations he’d received. No, his feet had had other ideas when he’d passed by the very first door in the hallway. It hung very slightly open, a soft breeze wafting from inside. Strange. In all the weeks that room had been vacant, he hadn’t even noticed the window had been left open. 

But then again, he thought, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. This is Ana we’re talking about.

He pushed the door open. The room felt odd. Everything looked exactly as it had when she’d last been inside. The heavy black curtains fluttered in the wind, casting dancing shadows on the hardwood floors. Her vanity table was much more organized than his. Her makeup arranged neatly in a case on one side, a leather-bound book on the opposite side. Strings of pearls were draped over the gilded edges of the mirror, but that was the extent of its disorganization. The rest of her things; jewellry, perfume, powders, and creams, were all likely inside the drawers of the vanity table. There was still a small pile of pillows pushed against the wall between the door and her armoire, a small stack of books sitting next to them. Her copy of ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ sat open on the floor, spine cracked. 

Her bed was made almost perfectly, except for the pillows on the floor. The soft saffron-colored blankets were all in order, probably made up to a nun’s standards. Her wicker basket of, crammed absolutely full of dozens of different kinds and colors of yarn, sat on the end of the bed. Her needles were attached to an arms length of pale pink knitting. Her white satin housecoat draped over the handles of the armoire, pooling onto the floor. A long since emptied teacup sat on the lace cover of the foot locker. 

In the setting sun, Ana’s pride and joy of her room was just barely becoming visible. It was solely because of that one detail that she had decided on black curtains. Glanni drew them closed, blocking out all remaining sunlight. A smile came to his face immediately, his eyes automatically drawn to the ceiling. There, in a myriad of whites and pale purples, greens, and blues, were literally thousands of brightly glowing pinpricks. Ana had always loved sleeping under the stars. She’d brought the entire milky way inside just so she wouldn’t have to stop. 

He missed her. That much had been obvious. They had hardly even spent a single day apart since they were twelve, let alone this much time. He missed her and he didn’t know where she was and he couldn’t do anything about it and he was angry but… standing there, looking at her night sky, he felt the absence of the most important star even more strongly than before. The books she’d never put away, the teacup she’d never cleaned, the scarf she’d never finished, these reminders prompted him to collapse numbly on her bed.

He felt tears prickling in the corners of his eyes and he hated it, he absolutely loathed it, because those tears would accomplish nothing. They weren’t going to bring his best friend back, they weren’t going to make him feel any better. They were useless. A waste of energy. That still didn’t stop them from spilling over his   
cheeks, his throat constricting painfully. He didn’t know how long he sat there, sniffling and fighting back sobs. Long enough for Ithro to grow bored with the chest of neat but otherwise useless knick knacks. Long enough for him to get suspicious. Long enough for him to come looking.

“Okay, that was way more than enough time to find an envelope,” said Ithro, bursting through the doorway. Glanni’s head whipped around. His hands flew to his face, furiously wiping the tears away before Ithro could comment on them. Of course in his panic, he had somewhat forgotten that besides the faint glow of the stars on the ceiling, the room was far too dark for him to be able to make them out in the first place. Ithro was instantly mesmerized by the sight. “Whoa…”

“Hey! I thought I told you to stay put!” snapped Glanni, pulling Ithro out the door with him. Him being in her room was just… wrong. He never knew her. He didn’t understand. He had no right. For the first time since being arrested, Glanni was furious. He practically stomped all the way to his bedroom door, throwing it open hard enough for the doorknob to make a dent in the wall behind it. “This is where it will be! Why don’t you make yourself useful and help look for it?!”

Ithro was taken aback by Glanni’s sudden spike in temper. That, coupled with the absolute landfill that Glanni called a room, left him feeling like he was in way over his head. The basics in furniture were there; a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf, a desk, and a vanity table. But the floor was practically invisible underneath discarded articles of clothing. In fact, almost every surface was completely covered. The surface of the vanity table was covered in makeup and jewellry and the odd hat. The dresser was piled high with books and messily folded clothing. The desk was an absolute mountain of papers and envelopes, some blank, some written on. Crumpled up balls of paper cluttered the floor around the desk and its matching chair. 

While Glanni snatched up a stack of papers and flopped down on the disarray of blankets and pillows that was his bed, Ithro knelt down and scooped up one of the balls of paper. He cast a glance to Glanni. His back was to him, and he seemed deeply engrossed in his search. Ithro unfolded the page and began to read the somewhat lopsided handwriting. 

I know you told me that you weren’t upset. I know you told me that you consider this to be a good thing. And I know you mean it. But I still feel… I dunno… Guilty? Ashamed? Afraid? Maybe if…

The note ended there. Ithro discarded it. He was tempted to look through the rest of the pieces of paper on the ground, but he still had a job to do. He plunked down in the chair and began sifting through the mess. He quickly established a pile of blank paper on the desk. The other papers and envelopes were all pretty standard things. Letters from workers, dealers of his goods, a few astronomically large bills for custom made suits. A couple were what appeared to be half-finished drafts of letters, often three or four for the same one. So, Glanni had a way with words everywhere but on paper. The thought amused him. 

He then came across a slightly crumpled letter from the St. Agnes Academy. It was simple, thanking Glanni for his kind donation of… a staggering amount of money. It then went on to list the things the money had gone towards. Ithro turned, giving Glanni’s back a curious look. 

“St. Agnes?” he asked simply. Glanni half turned around, looking at the envelope in Ithro’s hand.

“What about them?” he asked, sounding completely uninterested. Catching onto his meaning at last, Glanni shifted into a sitting position. “Oh. If you’re wondering about the money, that’s kinda a regular thing.” Ithro seemed surprised. “What? You don’t think I have a lot more to me than murder and drugs?”

Ithro supposed there was no way the police would have known of that. Being on the side of the law, the ‘enemy’, he supposed that information wouldn’t have made any difference. Generous or not, Glanni was still a criminal. But if he was so kind…

“How did you get into it?” asked Ithro after a few moments of silence. Glanni lifted his head, his expression expectant. Ithro elaborated. “The whole crime ring thing. A love of chaos? Money? Cause so far today, all I’ve seen is evidence that you’re not the type.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert on the criminal class just ‘cause you arrest us?” asked Glanni, unable to mask the disgust in his voice. “Almost all of us get into it for the money. So you know. Poverty is a disease, Ithro, and money is the only cure. So I was tired of living on the streets. So I couldn’t find any honest work at the time. So I wanted to take care of… of a friend. That’s why I got in.”

“And simple survival, that’s what motivated you to keep climbing the ladder?” asked Ithro. He in turn couldn’t keep the edge of authority from his voice. Glanni’s expression hardened.

“No. No, I suppose getting to the top of the heap wasn’t necessary,” he said, his voice bitter. “But if it’s wrong of me to strive for a better life, then I don’t give a damn about being right. I took what I had and I bettered myself. I took care of those who took care of me, of people who needed the helping hand. It seems you should see my side before you judge.”

“I have,” said Ithro softly. “Only a little. I was confused is all.” Glanni resumed sorting through his stack of paper. Ithro couldn’t stop staring. This man was an enigma. He supposed he could know him for twenty years and still barely understand him. But there was still one thing nagging on his mind. “That room… It was hers wasn’t it?”

“How do you know about her?” snapped Glanni, his eyes snapping back up to Ithro. 

“It was a while ago. I followed you two… You stole a pie,” said Ithro, thinking about the incident for the second time that day. 

“Oh… I… almost remember?” said Glanni honestly. The memory was foggy. He remembered… vaguely. “You wanted us to… go pay?”

“Almost,” said Ithro. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is she… d-”

“If you finish that word, I will make you regret it,” said Glanni, voice hard once again. He felt the cold hand close around his heart as it always did when he even considered the possibility. “She is not. Alright? She’s just… not here…”

“I’m sorry about your girl,” said Ithro sincerely. Glanni’s face had only just lost its redness. He had known that the other man had been crying; he simply hadn’t wanted to draw attention to it. Glanni squinted at him. 

“She’s not my girl,” said Glanni. “She never was.”

“Then why…?” he began. But he stopped himself from finishing the sentence. He didn’t want to irritate Glanni further. “Look… If you have any clues as to where she could be… I… could convince the chief to make finding her a priority.”

“Really?” said Glanni incredulously. Ithro nodded. Glanni let out a little, huh, smiling despite himself. “That’d… be great of you…” Ithro returned his smile. Glanni had been right. Things were getting interesting. And the humourless stick in the mud was proving himself to be the opposite very quickly. Much more Glanni’s type. Much harder to hold any animosity towards. “Anyways, let’s just focus on finding one of the invitations for now.”

The two did so, silently sifting for several more moments. Just as Ithro was getting to a particularly thick stack of envelopes, he uncovered an unusual thing in the pile. It wasn’t a letter, not in any sense of the word. It was just a bunch of random squiggles in several shades of purple paint. Strange. But it evoked a familiar picture in his mind. He set it aside just as Glanni rose to his feet.

“I got it!” he exclaimed triumphantly. In his hand was an envelope that appeared to be several years old, a broken red wax seal and black ribbon visible as Glanni removed the card from inside. “‘You are cordially invited to the equinox ball of Queen Marie Antoinette on the evening of March the 20th at the Chevron Banquet Hall commencing at eleven-thirty p.m sharp.’ Huh.”

“Wait, the twentieth?” said Ithro, rising to his feet and taking the card from Glanni’s hands. “This year?”

“Yep. Seems like we missed it though,” said Glanni. Ithro gave him a dumbfounded look.

“No, we didn’t,” said Ithro. “That’s tonight.”

“Oh,” said Glanni. Of course. He had lost track of time a while ago. He remembered getting the invitation not long ago. “Convenient that.”

“Very,” said Ithro. His eyes frantically searched the walls until they landed on a cuckoo clock. The face read nine forty-five. “That gives us some time to think of a plan. Let’s go.”

“What, to a ball? Dressed like this?” said Glanni, indicating his blood-stained and now smudged shirt. “I don’t think so. We’re heading back to Steve and Ella’s. We’ll bring back those clothes and see if they have anything more formal for you to wear. They should. They just tend to have what I need on hand every time I visit them.”

Ithro followed Glanni out of the room. They made their way down the hall. Still, despite himself, he paused at Ana’s bedroom door. He knew it was ridiculous, his feet just wouldn’t move. Ithro sensed his melancholy, placing a hand on his shoulder from behind. He turned. Ithro offered him a supportive half-smile. It had been a while since he had felt a comforting touch. He hadn’t quite realized how much he needed it until he quite suddenly found himself with his arms wrapped around the elf. Ithro was surprised, but didn’t protest.

“I just… really miss her…” he said, a slight waiver worming its way into the back of his words. It felt nice to finally say it to someone who could understand him. 

“We’ll find her,” said Ithro, offering Glanni an encouraging pat on the back. Glanni let himself have just a few more seconds before releasing him. He put on a brave smile.

“Now. We have a ball to attend.” Glanni led the way down the stairs. He gestured grandly. “Not many people get to do that these days. You should count yourself lucky.”

As they made their way out of the house and back to the cruiser, Ithro couldn’t help but smile at his newfound companion. Now that he understood the man much better, he found he had to agree. Lucky indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. Remember earlier this morning when he didn't even want to be near Glanni? Me neither. 
> 
> The next chapter will take significantly longer to write so, like... by Friday? Saturday at the latest. 
> 
> Until next time!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I'm putting these chapters up, like, really fast. But like... I'm impatient? And bored? And I have a ton of free time? Tf else am I supposed to do? And precisely no one is complaining I don't think.
> 
> Again, if the action feels anti-climatic... sorry? All my action scenes feel like that? But it could be worse. It wasn't like... action action, you know? So... yeah...
> 
> Anyways, as promised, the ball. Told ya it'd make sense.

It was all exactly the same as the last ball. The hall was lavishly decorated, with garlands of flowers and elegant statues positioned nearly everywhere. There were several dozen tables peppered around the edges of the ballroom, laid out with rich red velvet table cloths and lavish golden plates and utensils. The long banquet tables dotted here and there on the outskirts were piled high with the most elaborate desserts and entrees and appetizers. Glanni’s stomach was already rumbling. Those two chocolates he’d nicked from Tallulah were all he’d had to eat that day. 

As per usual, Marie had hired what may as well be a full orchestra for the occasion. They were playing already from the far left corner. Being that the night was so young, not many people were dancing. Most were milling around the food. The vampires in the crowd were easy to spot. They all carried a champagne flute of deep red liquid, clearly blood. There were less than Glanni was expecting. Marie herself had yet to make her grand appearance. Getting into her costume took quite some time. She would be occupied for a bit longer, even though Ithro and Glanni were late. 

Glanni had had a suit already specially made for such an occasion. The crown jewel of the outfit was the pink brocade tailcoat. The cuffs and collar of the coat were just as black as his pants and the Spanish leather heels he wore to match. The waistcoat he wore under the coat was powder pink, with silver embroidery. He hadn’t had time to pick a tie; a tragedy. Still, the ladies and a few of the gentlemen began to whisper as he passed. He owed most of that to his expert application of his dark eyeshadow and dusty rose lipstick. He wasn’t the only man with makeup, but he was the man with the best. The sharp, straight lines of his eyeliner were the main reason the two had been late.

Ithro was dressed in a whole different manner. Much less elaborate. Glanni had told him he would look underdressed, but there wasn’t much either of them could do about that. A simple suit was all Steve had had on hand. Ithro’s suit was three pieces; pants, coat, shirt. No waistcoat at all. If it hadn’t been for Steve, he would have gone without a tie of any kind as well. He had draped a mustard yellow scarf around Ithro’s neck. Glanni had sighed. It would have to do. The suit was white as snow, not a fleck of dirt on it. The shirt that with went it was black, which was a pleasant contrast. Glanni still hadn’t decided if he liked the scarf or not. 

“So… What’s the plan?” asked Ithro, tailing Glanni warily. He hadn’t had much experience dealing with vampires and he wasn’t sure what level of concern he should have. 

“The plan,” said Glanni, pausing to waggle his fingers at a pair of gawking women. They giggled to each other before melting into the crowd. “Is to eat a lot, drink even more, and barely remember any of this in the morning.”

“What?!” snapped Ithro. Glanni shot Ithro a glare. This only served to confuse him more. “We have to…”

“Go somewhere private, I know,” said Glanni, waving his hand dismissively. This caught the attention of one of the nearby vampires. Glanni flashed him a smile. “Feisty one, isn’t he? Can’t keep his hands off me for ten minutes.”

Ithro turned beet red, fumbling to find words to ask Glanni just what the hell was going on. Glanni kept right on walking as though it never even happened. He made his way to a dessert table that was far enough away from the other partygoers and close enough to the orchestra that they could talk without being heard. Once they were situated there, Glanni picked up a strawberry tart overloaded with whipped cream. 

“Now, here’s the plan,” said Glanni. He paused to lick the whipped cream, then continued. “I don’t have one.”

The sound Ithro made upon hearing those words was a cross between a deflating balloon and a growl. He could hardly believe they’d made it all the way here without even a fraction of a plan. This wasn’t a game; they could both die. As he watched Glanni sway to the music and eat his tart, he became very aware of just how deep in shit they were right now. No. Not rightly the both of them. Just him. Glanni was comfortable. This was an environment he knew, one he felt safe in. It was quite the opposite for Ithro. Glanni saw the elf’s complexion pale visibly. 

“Ithro, I only said I didn’t have a plan, not that there was nothing we could do,” said Glanni, trying to remedy the situation. Ithro didn’t even get the chance to ask what he meant by that. Glanni slipped a small glass vial into his hand, making sure no one saw him do so. “Holy water. I always have some on hand when I go to one of Marie’s balls. Never know when it’ll come in handy.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do with it? Throw it in her face?” asked Ithro in an irritated voice. Glanni rolled his eyes.

“Well, you could, if you had a death wish,” said Glanni sarcastically. “No, this is gonna require a little stealth.” Glanni let his words sink in, then thought back to the warehouse and how well Ithro had handled that and gave him a quizzical look. “Actually, I dunno if you can handle stealth.” 

“Of course I can.” Ithro shook his head, then looked over the room. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Do you?” asked Glanni, redirecting because he really didn’t.

“Well…” said Ithro. He looked around the room yet again. The self-proclaimed queen hadn’t arrived yet. Glanni was going to be no help whatsoever, as evidenced by the second tart he grabbed. Ithro fought desperately to find a clue, some sort of an idea for what to do about this situation. Suddenly, he remembered that every vampire had a glass of… blood… and that Marie would likely also have one. And since she went to all the extremes of calling herself a queen and throwing balls, she would likely have a very distinct cup. If he could just think of an excuse to go to the kitchen… He gave Glanni a skeptical sideways glance. Maybe… “Glanni, is there… Could you think of a reason for you to send me to the kitchen?”

“Emille should have a bottle of faery wine for me. He usually brings it around the end of the night, so I can take the leftovers home, but I’m sure he wouldn’t care if I got it early,” said Glanni, swiping up a fingerful of whipped cream. “Why?” Just as Ithro opened his mouth to answer, it clicked in Glanni’s mind. “Ohhhh. Clever. Hers is gold, covered in sapphires. You can’t miss it.”

The two gave each other a final nod. Ithro made his way to the doorway where the servers kept coming in and out of. Glanni watched him go. A small voice in the back of his head said, Well, that’s the last we’ll see of him. He shook his head. No. No, Ithro would be fine. He hoped. 

Quickly growing bored in the corner, Glanni wandered back towards the center of the ballroom. A few couples were dancing now, skirts and coats billowing as they twirled around the space. Glanni figured Ithro would be gone for long enough for him to at least have one dance, a couple drinks. He wasn’t going to got to one of these and not enjoy himself. Luckily, a server walked past him right then, carrying a tray of champagne glasses. He snatched up two as the woman went by. He knocked them back one after the other, enjoying the gentle burn of the bubbles. He set the two glasses down on a table, ignoring the four people already seated there. 

Glanni didn’t see anyone he knew, which was as expected. There was almost always a new group of people invited every time Marie threw one of her balls. It made it easy to make new connections, business, amourous, or otherwise. As Glanni brushed through the crowd, he caught sight of something large and spring green out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw what looked distinctly like luna moth wings. They were attached to someone; a smiling woman a little older than Glanni. Or so she seemed to be. She was clearly fae, so appearances meant nothing. She wore a seafoam green gown that trailed behind her. It evoked a clear image of the ocean. What little hair she did have was a pale brown, the short and spiky style suiting her round face well. Glanni was instantly drawn to her, mainly due to the fact that she was the first faerie besides Ana he’d seen in years. 

“Well, well,” said the woman as Glanni’s approach became obvious to her. “What have we here?”

“Rikki Riki,” he said out of habit. She smiled. 

“Canyon,” she replied. She made a move that looked like she was about to curtsey, but she decided against it. “Haven’t seen you around.”

“Been occupied,” Glanni replied honestly. “So… You from the Court?”

“What gave it away?” she asked sarcastically. Glanni chuckled. “Yes, I just came out for a little sight-seeing. Oh! Are you an urban faery?”

“A what?” asked Glanni. She seemed surprised.

“Y’know, a faerie that was raised in the human world,” said Canyon. “As in, outside the Courts.”

“I suppose I am,” he replied. She seemed pleased to hear this. “Why?”

“I’ve never met an urban faerie. I hear it’s depressing as hell. And your magic is probably incredibly weak,” said Canyon, an odd excitement in her voice. Glanni wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be offended or not. “Without the forest to draw from, I have no idea how you urban faeries even sleep at night. Or is the city like your forest?”

“What?” asked Glanni, completely lost at this point. 

“Does it speak to you? C’mon, without the voice of the forest, I don’t know how you urban fae live.”

“Wait… That’s a thing?” asked Glanni, intrigued. Canyon nodded eagerly. 

“Yes!” she said excitedly. He didn’t understand what she had to be so excited about, but as long as she kept talking about the Court lands, he didn’t care. Though it had always been more Ana’s fascination than his own, he wanted to learn all he could. “Oh, you should see it. It’s beautiful. Not like those measly human parks, no, no. Much older, much stronger. Do you know where the silver mine is?” Glanni nodded. “The forest just past that is the entrance to the fae lands. Humans can’t get in, but if you just keep walking about a quarter mile east, you’ll hit the first goblin market. Trust me, it’ll take your breath away.”

Glanni’s breath was already taken away, but for a much different reason. He felt his old promise tugging on the back of his mind, urging him to find Ana and fulfill it. And now that he knew where to go, he was one step closer to doing just that. Only one thing remained, but he’d thought about her too much already tonight. Canyon seemed to remember something. 

“Hey!” she said, snapping her fingers. “If you’ve never been to the courts, I don’t suppose you’ve ever had pixie dust?”

Glanni gave her an inquisitive look. Her eyes lit up. She reached up and plucked a small cork-sealed bottle out of thin air. It was filled with a snow white sparkling powder. She pulled the cork out and extended it to him.

“Go on, give it a sniff,” said Canyon. Glanni tentatively held the flask under his nose. He smelled nothing. She burst out laughing, startling him. “Not like that!” She snatched the vial from his hand, dumped a small mound of the powder into her hand, lifted it to her nose, and snorted it all up her nose. Glanni was about to tell her that was snorting and not sniffing, but she was pouring some of the powder into his hand already. 

“So… it’s cocaine,” said Glanni. Canyon’s irises had already widened to double their previous size. She chuckled.

“Darling, cocaine wishes it was pixie dust,” said Canyon. She laughed again, much more breathily. “And the best part is it only works for the fae. Go on! Take it!”

Glanni hadn’t taken anything hard in the last two years. Not explicitly because he didn’t want to. There were other reasons. He was usually on board to try new things, though, especially in the name of amusement. But he was supposed to be working, sort of… It would be fine. Ithro had it under control. He was the copper, after all. 

***

Ithro had found the kitchen with absolutely no difficulties. The hallway he’d went down led directly to it. Apart from servers ducking in and out with trays every so often, the kitchen was mostly still. It made sense, since the food was already prepared and laid out around the room. The staff seemed to either be gone or celebrating elsewhere. All except for one man. He seemed to be deeply engrossed in drizzling chocolate over a slice of cake. Ithro cleared his throat. The man’s almond-shaped eyes locked with Ithro’s.

“I don’t want to hear your complaints about the lack of fruit, elf,” snapped the man, returning his attention to the cake. 

“No, no, I have no complaints,” said Ithro politely. 

“Then what are you doing in my kitchen?” asked the chef, sounding very bored. As soon as he was satisfied with the cake, he dug a fork into it, taking a bite. 

“I was sent by Gl… Rikki,” Ithro corrected himself. Since Glanni had been introducing himself all day as Rikki, Ithro figured that he would be known by that name here. “He told me to get his faerie wine early.”

“Of course,” said the man in an exasperated voice. He dropped the fork onto the plate noisily. He headed off around a corner. “Wait here.”

As soon as he was gone, Ithro began desperately searching the room. There were so many cabinets and counters, all wiped clean. He had no idea where to even begin looking for a golden goblet. It shouldn’t be hard to find, it would be the only one. Ithro hoped that the chef would be gone long enough as he rounded a corner. It was more counters, a door that obviously led to a meat locker, a bowl filled with fruit, several trays with glasses of blood and other not blood drinks, a gilded golden tray with… the goblet! He practically ran the whole way to the goblet, quickly emptied the vial of holy water into the pool of crimson liquid, then bolted back to where the chef had left him. He returned a few minutes later, a small deep green bottle in his hands.

“Tell Rikki that he’s a pain in my ass when you see him, alright?” said the chef, thrusting the bottle into Ithro’s hands. “Always with his expensive liquor. Why can’t he just be happy with what we have?

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” said Ithro sincerely. The chef waved him off, digging back into his cake. Ithro walked back the way he’d come, eager to get to Glanni and leave. 

However, upon entering the ballroom again, Glanni was gone from the banquet table. Ithro’s eyes scanned the crowd, searching for his wings. But as he looked again and again and yet again, they were nowhere in sight. Ithro’s heart dropped. Had he finally booked it? Ithro shoved his way through the crowd, stepping on quite a few toes and skirts. He didn’t have time to stop to apologize to everyone. Just as Ithro was about to burst through the doors, he heard a very loud and familiar laugh. He whipped his head around, looking frantically for the source. He still couldn’t find him. It wasn’t until he finally looked up that he found him at last. Glanni, his jacket gone and his waistcoat hanging open, was sitting on the top of the chandelier. There was another faerie woman hovering next to him. The two were giggling, likely talking about something or other. Ithro sighed. Well, at least he hadn’t run away.

“Rikki!” he called out, keeping the facade up. Glanni looked down, waving excitedly. He didn’t seem to be making any effort to move, simply turned bacl to the woman and kept talking. He’d have to try a little harder. “I got your wine!”

This got Glanni’s attention. He gestured for the woman to follow him and the two made their way down to join Ithro. 

“You really do have an elf,” was the first thing the woman said. Glanni was grinning much too widely, nodding much too enthusiastically. Ithro narrowed his eyes.

“Isn’t he a biscuit?” said Glanni shamelessly, wrapping an arm around Ithro’s shoulders. He had most certainly been drinking, that much was apparent in the stink of his breath. But Ithro had only left the room for twenty minutes tops. There was no way Glanni had managed to get himself drunk that fast. Glanni snatched the bottle of wine from Ithro’s hands before he could protest. He pulled the cork out like it was nothing, then threw it over his shoulder. He drank straight from the bottle, tipping it back almost vertically and drinking like his life depended on it. Just when Ithro, looking on in horror, thought he’d finish the bottle, he lowered it and extended it to the woman. “Here, have some!”

“Don’t mind if I do,” said the woman. She didn’t drink with the same fervor Glanni had displayed, but she wasn’t shy about it either. When she was done, she passed the bottle back to him. “Mmmm, mmm… Love me some faerie wine.”

“Can we talk?” asked Ithro, trying to sweep Glanni off to a more private area.

“But what about Canyon?” asked Glanni, a slight slur to his words. Ithro was about to protest but she waved them off.

“Go on. I know what the poor boy wants,” she said, sounding even farther gone than Glanni. She gave a little twirl, winked, then melted back into the crowd.

“What did you take?” Ithro asked immediately. Glanni raised the bottle again, but Ithro shot his hand out and lowered it. “I know you took something, what did you take?”

“What’re you gonna do if I don’t tell you? Arrest me?” asked Glanni, giving Ithro a wobbly smile. “Oh wait…”

Before Ithro could stop him, he knocked back the bottle again. Ithro looked around the room warily. Marie was bound to make her grand appearance at any minute. They needed to leave, and now. 

“Come on, we have to get back to your place,” said Ithro, trying to shepard Glanni to the doorway. Glanni wouldn’t budge.

“Hey, hey, hey. I know you wanna get me alone, you cheeky thing,” Glanni slurred, patting Ithro’s cheek. “But… later. Marie ain’t even here yet.”

“Which is why we need to leave,” hissed Ithro, trying to pry the wine bottle from Glanni’s hands. Glanni held on tight, seeming hardly fazed at all by his efforts. He just giggled. “Look, do you want things to get ugly? ‘Cause if we don’t leave now…”

Before Ithro could even finish his sentence, the orchestra quieted. Blaring trumpets were heard. A man in a rococo uniform stepped out from behind the large red curtain behind the grandest table on the far side of the room. Ithro’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Presenting her royal highness, Queen Marie Antoinette!” the man said in a loud voice.

The curtain opened, revealing the leading lady herself. She looked both pompous and regal, somehow maintaining the right balance of the commanding and harmless. She wore a creme colored silk gown. It exaggerated the width of her hips, but not to an impractical degree. The skirt was sparsely embroidered with flowers. A pink ribbon wrapped around the skirt near the base, with embroidered feathers resting on each flounce. The sleeves on the gown reached her elbows, lace draping out from the very ends. The train trailed behind her about three feet, bearing the same embroidery as the skirt. Her face was already naturally pale, so her bright pink blush, lipstick, and her dark eyeshadow stood out. A black heart was painted on her cheekbone. Her powdered wig wasn’t ridiculously large, but it was clearly a wig. Two large curls draped over her shoulder. A white rose sat just above her left ear. 

Glanni seemed to be highly pleased with her attire, pushing through the crowd to get a closer look. She took her seat at the only chair in the room. A server appeared with her goblet on its tray, setting it in front of her. Ithro lunged forward, trying to grab Glanni and force him to leave. Instead, Glanni hoisted his mostly empty bottle into the air.

“A toast!” he said loudly, voice ringing out over the guests. Marie smiled, lifting her glass. Everyone with a glass in their hand followed suit. Ithro grabbed onto Glanni’s shoulder, but it was like trying to tug a tree, he wasn’t going anywhere. “To Queen Marie! Long may she continue to throw the best parties in town!” Marie chuckled. Everyone gave a cheer, then took a drink, Marie included. They had mere seconds before the holy water would kill her. They were royally screwed. Glanni finished what was left in his bottle, then proceeded to smash the empty bottle on the ground with a loud whoop. Ithro buried his face in his hands. Glanni turned to him. “C’mon, let’s go dance!”

“No! We need to leave!” exclaimed Ithro. Looking up at Marie, he knew it was already too late. 

Her face contorted, not really in pain. More so in confusion. She wriggled the fingers on her left hand. Upon seeing them crumble away to dust, she screamed in horror, rising to her feet. All she could do was scream as she watched her own limbs dissolve into ash bit by bit. The crowd began to let out horrified screams of their own. All but the other vampires ran out in fear, either due to understanding or not understanding what was going on. In less than a minute, all that remained of the queen was her gown and wig resting in a pile of ash.

“YOU!” exclaimed the chef from the kitchen. Ithro hadn’t even noticed he was in the room. But his accusing finger was pointed at Ithro. 

No further explanation was needed. Hands began to reach for him, mostly the pale, cold ones of Marie’s gang members. They clamped down like vices, leaving all of Ithro’s thrashings to be in vain. Glanni at last seemed to sober, too late realizing the urgency of the situation. 

“Wait, wait!” exclaimed Glanni. The other vampires focused their attention on him. “This is all a misunderstanding! He’s my personal guest! He wouldn’t…”

“Oh yes,” said the chef, crossing the room. “You’re the one that sent him to do it! Why else would he distract me with getting your wine?”

“What?” said Glanni incredulously. “Emille, c’mon! You know Marie and I were good friends, why would I…”

“Who knows why you would do anything?” hissed Emille, grabbing onto Glanni’s left arm. He caught sight of the piece of twine immediately, then laughed, holding it up for the others to see. “Looks like we’ve got a neutered one, boys!”

The other vampires laughed. Emille gave Glanni’s arm a sharp twist. It made an audible cracking noise, accompanied by a pained howl on Glanni’s part. He fell to the ground. Emille gave him a kick hard enough to send him flying back into one of the tables. He didn’t get up. Ithro was running out of options. 

“He’s all yours,” said Emille, heading over to Glanni, battered and unconscious. “I’ll take care of this one.”

As the throng of vampires sunk their teeth into nearly every part of his body they could reach, time slowed to a standstill. He was going to die if he didn’t do something, and quickly. He couldn’t die. He had a family waiting for him at home. He still owed them a picnic… A picnic. Outside. Daytime. Outside… daytime… sunlight… The pieces all clicked in his mind. Time resumed as normal, pain rolling over every part of his body. But he knew what to do now.

“Sólarljós!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. He went dizzy with the amount of magic he poured into those three syllables.

It was like the sun itself had just appeared in the center of the ballroom. Ithro was temporarily blinded by the bright flare of light that swept over the room. The vampires didn’t even get the chance to scream. When the light faded, all that remained of the several dozen vampires were dozens of piles of ash and clothing. 

Ithro stumbled blindly in the direction Glanni had been thrown. Through the bright white spots in his vision, he saw enough to be able to hoist the man up like a sack of flour. Even that hurt. Ithro was bleeding from dozens of wounds all over his abdomen and shoulders, but still, he dragged them both out the doors of the destroyed ballroom and out to the cruiser. It was parked around the back. By then, he could mostly see. He stuffed Glanni into the back seat. The effort caused him to collapse in the driver’s seat, chest heaving. He hadn’t used magic so strong in… ever, now that he thought about it. Coherent thought was becoming more of a chore.

They needed to get somewhere far away. But Ithro could hardly lift his arms anymore. He couldn’t drive like this. He couldn’t even… couldn’t even… He slumped over on the steering wheel, eyes closed before he even hit the surface of it. It had been an exhausting evening. The two remained there for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe all this stuff happened in about... thirteen hours? Crazy right? 
> 
> Classic Glanni; party over logic every time. Though I suppose in his defense he was on that pixie dust. Don't do drugs, kids.
> 
> I dunno... I'm not sure I like how this one came out... Ah well.
> 
> See y'all in a few more days!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is where I make a decision some of you may not like, or like, you may have already guessed or whatever but hey! My fic! Can have whatever tf happen that I want. Reluctantly not sorry... A lil sorry? Depends on the response. 
> 
> In this chapter; The origins of Afram Ithro's raw-fish devouring, Babby Sport, Finally Mentioning Robbie, and............................... ANA AT LONG LAST!!!!!! It's been precisely two chapters since we focused on her, it's about time we put her back in the spotlight. I didn't intend to use her so much she just... takes over. This chapter is mainly backstory, but hey, it’s fun.
> 
> Have a good!

Glanni’s life, up until that point, had been a collection of random moments that seemed to come out of order. A lot of being cold. A golden glow. The way a knife felt in his hand. Knocking out teeth. Purple frosting all over his hands. Plenty of pink. And all of it was hard to string together. He knew that he was sore. Very. He knew that he was laying on something rough… corduroy? It smelled like… fish… Very much so. The sounds of clattering dishes and inconsiderately loud talking jolted him near to fully awake, stretching and rubbing his eyes. Or at least, he tried. A sudden jolt of pain cause him to let out a yelp very near to a scream. Now he was awake. 

“Look who is still alive,” said a heavily accented woman’s voice, actually sounding surprised. Glanni blinked slowly, the room around him coming into focus. He was on a dull brown couch, in a very small living room. The equally small kitchen was a mere three feet away. An elderly woman, the one from Ithro’s photograph, stood in the kitchen. She was wrapped in a soft green housecoat, hair pulled up in a bun. She was frying fish on the stove. “You want some?”

“Where…” Glanni began, very slowly wriggling himself into a sitting position. The brown and yellow knit blanket that was draped over him was wrapped around his legs like vines. He must have been tossing and turning quite a bit while he slept.

“Ithro brought you here yesterday morning,” said the woman. She scooped her fish fillet out of the pan and dropped it on a plate. It looked… barely cooked. “This is his home. He and Lítill blá are still sleeping. Ithro was worried about you.”

“Are you his mother?” asked Glanni, staring on in barely masked horror as she scooped up the fish and took a ravenous bite. When while her mouth was still full, she shook her head. 

“Grandmother,” she said around her mouthful of fish. She plopped down on the worn-looking armchair, crossing her legs. “No, his mother has been dead and buried for decades.”

“Oh…” said Glanni. Somehow just hearing it said bluntly was jarring for him. Ithro may not ever have known his mother… Glanni could relate. As he watched the woman eat, mostly due to not being able to tear his eyes away, he tried to recall as much as he could about the ball. He vaguely remembered the other faerie, the faery wine, the pixie dust. That was about all he could remember. But due to the very fine layer of ash on his bloody shirt and torn waistcoat, he could infer that Ithro had taken care of the vampires while he had been… indisposed. “I was out for a whole day?”

“Well, look at yourself, I was not surprised,” said the woman, sucking her fingers clean. “You are lucky for your magic. You would not have even begun healing by now without it.” 

Glanni supposed she was right. Though he did still remember the words that… Canyon? Had told him. He remembered what she’d said about the silver mine and the voice of the forest. He still didn’t understand it, but he supposed that was the fundamental purpose of magic. Also, she had been high as a kite at the time. Maybe it was all pixie dust induced rambling.

Just as Glanni was about to ask when Ithro would be up, the elf himself appeared in an archway he hadn’t even seen, initially. He wore yellow flannel pyjamas. His blond curls were much more unruly than Glanni had ever seen them before. He had to admit… first thing in the morning Ithro was a sight he could get used to. However the small person, almost an exact copy of Ithro in tiny form, was less expected. So, that was the kid from the picture. He wore matching pyjamas, but in blue instead of yellow. The way they made their way to the kitchen, yawned and stretched. It was almost uncanny. There was no doubt in Glanni’s mind, the boy was most definitely Ithro’s son. Though the lack of a wedding ring on Ithro’s left hand told him that he was most definitely not married. And the lack of evidence of a woman other than Fish Grandmother told him that the mother wasn’t dead either. Just absent. Interesting.

“Glanni,” said Ithro at last, almost as an afterthought. He blinked a few times, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re awake!”

“It’s alright, champagne is appreciated but not necessary,” said Glanni sarcastically. Ithro shook his head. “You look fine. Did you take care of things easily, then?”

“Well… We got here in the end, so that’s all that matters,” said Ithro, dodging the question effectively. He opened up the icebox, peering inside. They needed to get more groceries soon… But they still had a carton of eggs. Those would have to do. He turned to Sportacus, who grinned up at him. “How do you want your eggs?”

“Scrambled!” he exclaimed in the same accent Fish Grandmother and Ithro had. Ithro looked up at Glanni, asking silently if he wanted the same. Glanni rarely ate eggs to begin with, but he supposed he wasn’t opposed. He shrugged. Ithro Began preparing the eggs. Sportacus peeked into the ice box. “Pabbi, can I have some sportscandy?”

“What,” said Glanni, almost reflexively. The statement had just been so absurd, he couldn’t resist. 

“He means fruit,” said Ithro, reaching into the fridge and handing the small basket of strawberries to Sportacus. “It’s our little in-joke. Amma doesn’t understand either.”

Fish Grandmother said something in elvish, sounding like passive-aggressive grumbling. Sportacus on the other hand looked like a kid on Christmas, taking a bite out of the largest strawberry. He looked like he was about flop down on the end of the couch, but then remembered Glanni was there and just sat on the floor at the foot of the couch. He ate berry after berry, looking very pleased with himself. Glanni shook his head. What a weird kid. 

“So, how are you feeling today?” asked Ithro as he stirred the eggs. 

“I feel like I fell off a cliff,” said Glanni honestly. “What happened?”

Ithro shot a wary glance to Sportacus, still popping berries into his mouth. He figured Sportacus hadn’t seen the look, but he noticed. Sport always noticed. He knew his father’s work was dangerous, and he knew that he wanted to protect him from how hazardous the situations he got into were. They were both aware that he wasn’t going to say anything while he was there.

“After breakfast,” said Ithro cautiously. Fish Grandmother seemed to understand. 

“To the park after your eggs?” she asked Sportacus. He nodded eagerly. 

The late morning passed quickly, with small talk and eggs and toast. As soon as Sportacus (Glanni could not believe that was the poor kids honest to god birth name. Where was his mother on that one?) was finished his breakfast, he and Fish Grandmother dressed and were out that door. They promised they would be back around dinner time. Alone once again, Ithro took a seat in the armchair.

“I would like to start by saying what the fuck were you thinking,” said Ithro calmly, hands folded on his lap. Glanni was a little taken aback by his delivery. Very straightforward, but he supposed Ithro was like that. “Why would you get high while we were trying to kill a crime boss in public at one of her own parties?”

“I… figured you had things under control…” he said weakly. Ithro gave him a look of both confusion and disbelief. Glanni didn’t really feel like saying that he’d done it just for the sake of doing it. That wouldn’t go over well. “I’m… I’m sorry. I should have thought before I acted. I have absolutely no impulse control. Ana was most of it and she’s not here, so…” 

“Well… apology acknowledged, but you’re still an idiot,” said Ithro. Glanni was not forgiven. Not by a longshot. They had almost died. Sportacus would have been orphaned. That was the ultimate insult. He had seen the picture on the shelf back in his office. He had to have made the connection, so he couldn’t even feign ignorance. However, he was much more inclined to move past it after Glanni’s apology. “Do you need anything?”

“Besides for this pain to just… take a break from hurting?” asked Glanni sarcastically. Ithro rolled his eyes. “Other than that, no, I’m full up on… everything.”

“I have to ask,” said Ithro, his curiosity at last getting the better of him. It was a question that had been nagging on him since the previous night. “If you and Marie… Norma… Whichever… Were such good friends, then why didn’t you have any issues with killing her?”

“Whoa, when did I ever say we were good friends?” asked Glanni, a little taken aback. 

“But… She invited you to her parties. Regularly. And I know you were… indisposed at the time, but that toast you made… Seemed quite genuine.”

“Oh, she was an icon. Not a very old vampire, but a very persuasive one. I respected her, I knew she was on the same level as me. And that’s all it was. Two crime bosses circling each other with smiles on our faces, waiting for the other one to drop dead so we could take their empire… Which I would have done if I hadn’t been so rudely arrested before I got the chance.”

“Well, we got rid of her quickly enough,” said Ithro, refusing to acknowledge the latter part of his statement. “Which means there are only two left; the leader of the local werewolf pack and… actually I don’t know who the last one is.”

“What, and you think I do?” asked Glanni after the pause began to feel expectant. Ithro shrugged, not quite willing to admit that he had. “I know that he… she… they? Yeah, they. They are incredibly rich and even more incredibly powerful. That’s it. The who and the where is a mystery.”

“Applesauce…” said Ithro under his breath. Glanni didn’t quite catch it. Ithro heaved a sigh. “I suppose we can only… wait until we’re both fully healed, then go back to Chief Busybody.”

“What? Why her?”

“Or Tallulah. Whichever. I don’t care, so long as we find out about these werewolves.”

“Wait… The Meridians?” asked Glanni. There were three wolf packs in the area, but the fact that they were probably after the most powerful of the three was completely lost on him until that precise moment. Ithro nodded. Glanni furrowed his brows. “Those guys are still active? But… their alpha is dead. I killed him myself.”

“You what now?” said Ithro incredulously. He felt ridiculous for it as soon as the words were out. Glanni was the head of a crime syndicate. Of course he had killed people, especially rivals like that. Glanni was about to say something sarcastic about it, but Ithro held up a hand. “Y’know what, it’s fine. You’ve already been arrested for it, there’s not much else I can do. And as I have come to know you… you had your reasons, I’m sure.”

Glanni was almost touched to hear someone speak about his crimes in a more sympathetic light. Of course, he had killed people, and was both directly and indirectly responsible for the deaths of at least two dozen others, but… that was business? Which sounded cruel. He didn’t like to think of it that way. Besides, Luke, the previous alpha of the Meridians, had most assuredly deserved it. 

To keep a long memory that would only serve to upset him short, this was not the first time that Ana had disappeared. However, it was the first time she’d been gone this long. She’d normally have escaped by now. But before this, the longest she’d been gone was three days. Back then, Glanni had had the gall to tear anything between him and Ana to pieces, though it wasn’t usually a requirement. Ana had come home after those three days, clothes torn and a little rough around the edges, but otherwise unscathed. But he had been far too worried about her to let it end there. So Luke had gotten a knife in the ribs. Simple as that. Then, in celebration of his best friend returning home, they’d gone to the lounge and drank like their lives depended on it. This was not unusual. Neither was Glanni waking up in his room alone, his blankets every which way and his clothes scattered on the floor. His bed was empty of whoever he had brought home that night. This was also usual. 

He’d pulled on a fresh set of clothes, leaving his old ones on the floor, then padded downstairs. Ana had made breakfast, or possibly lunch? Brunch. Ana had made brunch. The egg and bacon sandwich with hashbrowns was much appreciated by his empty, growling stomach. Since she wasn’t seated at the dining table, he had made his way to the living room. Sure enough, she was there, curled up in the corner of the couch with a green knit blanket wrapped around her and her mostly empty plate resting on her knee.

“Morning,” he’d said. She looked up, smiling, but said nothing initially. He sat on the armchair across from her, taking a bite from one of his hashbrowns. “I missed your breakfasts.”

“It was only three days, you drama queen,” she’d said, rolling her eyes. Glanni scoffed. As he kept eating, he noticed she was still looking at him, a slight smile on her face. “But that was quite the welcome back.”

“Nothing but the best for you,” he’d said with a smile. “Besides, we both needed some fun after that.”

“Oh yes…” she said, her voice taking on a somewhat wistful tone. “Fun is a word for it.”

“Be honest though,” said Glanni, brushing some crumbs from his fingers, “How much did I drink? I completely lost track.”

“Oh, a full bottle of faery wine and about four shots of tequila. Which I told you not to do. But then… I can’t say I didn’t drink maybe… about six margaritas. And we can’t all have your abnormally high tolerance.”

“So we were both half-seas over?” he’d asked coyly.

“Completely,” she said with a grin. They chuckled. “And don’t worry, we got a ride home from Bobbie.”

“Ah, Bobbie,” he’d said. “What a good kid.”

“Just like his brothers,” she agreed. Having exhausted the conversation topic, she sighed, adjusting the blanket. “Well… I understand why you and your… friends… are always so loud now.”

“Yeah…” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hope that didn’t keep you up… too late, at least.”

“I got to sleep at about three,” she said with a shrug. “But then we were out til one. It’s… almost one now, actually. So don’t worry. Though after all that, I slept like a rock, lemme tell you…”

“Yeah, the quiet must’ve been nice after all that,” he’s said. It would certainly not be the first time that they’d had a similar discussion. Glanni and Ana had both been guilty of it, though Glanni was the one who was guilty of it the most often. Both Ana and Glanni were very lax about it. “Did they have breakfast before they left?”

“Who?” she asked, brows furrowing. Glanni swallowed his bite before speaking again.

“Whoever it was a brought back last night,” asked Glanni. He barely recalled after his second shot of tequila, though he did get the vague impression that he’d brought home a woman. Well… there had been a woman, based on the sounds and the curly hair. Though he didn’t recall bringing anyone. Then again he didn’t recall even coming home, so that counted for literally nothing. “It wasn’t that weird sewer girl again, was it?”

“What?” asked Ana, more confused than before. “No. Glanni, you didn’t… don’t you remember? Wait… of course you don’t… right.” Glanni was confused now as well, but he didn’t have to wait too long for an explanation. Ana shifted her position, placing her plate beside her on the couch, dropping the blanket, and sweeping her hair over one shoulder. Words were not needed to explain how the many deep red and slightly purple splotches had gotten on her neck and shoulders. There was also a faint dusting of glitter, not just on her skin but in her hair as well. These were typical of people he had brought to bed with him. “I have to say, you were nothing if not… thorough.”

Glanni blinked. He still didn’t remember very much, though he supposed now that he thought about it, he could recall black hair and freckled skin under his fingers. But he didn’t feel any differently about Ana. She was still… Ana. And she didn’t appear to feel any different either. 

“Oh…” he said after a moment. He was much more surprised than anything else. 

“Oh indeed,” she replied knowingly. The silence between their words weren’t quite tense, weren’t quite awkward. Just… sort of choking. Like the other was struggling to think of which words to say. Which Glanni supposed was what was happening anyway. When Ana had finally had enough, she figured it was time to lay a few things to rest. “Look… nothing is different. Nothing, okay? I still think you’re an idiot pain in my ass and sometimes I think strangling you is the only way to get you to listen. And I still love you. But… yeah, this?” She gestured to the marks on her neck. “This is never happening again. So if you have any hang-ups you’d like to get out of the way, now would be the time to do it.”

“What? No. What, did you think that I planned this?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t.”

“I didn’t. I guess… maybe I was just… glad to have you back and drunk me took it way too far.”

“Drunk you does tend to take things too far,” she said knowingly. Still, she seemed unsatisfied with this. “Promise me. Promise me this had nothing to do with some latent crush that’s gonna ruin everything between us and we can move on.”

“I swear,” he said easily. Nothing happened. No pain of any kind, and he’d been able to say it with no difficulty. So he wasn’t ling, not even to himself. 

“Alright then,” she said, content with this. “In the future… please do bring someone else home when we get crazy like that. I don’t want any more awkward mornings like this.”

“Will do,” he said. Still… before the subject was dropped indefinitely, he did have one question. “Though seeing as how you still remember it… how was I?”

“Really?” she said exasperatedly. Glanni raised an eyebrow. She sighed, the barest traces of a smile playing on the corners of her mouth. “Fine. Honestly… surprisingly good. Almost impressively so. I get how you can keep hooking people with that shit personality of yours. I was four in before you finally passed out.”

“Four huh?” he said. Ana wrinkled her nose at his smug expression.

“Oh, hush you. But like I said, never again.”

“Never again,” he agreed. And so they left it at that. For a few months anyway. 

But even that morning hadn’t quite been so fumbling and awkward as the five days he spent as an invalid on Ithro’s couch. It wasn’t just Fish Grandmother’s fascinatingly disgusting way of devouring sometimes raw fish, or the fact that Ithro still refused to take the binding off even though it would probably speed his healing, or even the unfortunately named Sportacus’ habit of talking Glanni’s ear off which admittedly was the nicer part of his stay. It was the domestics of it all. They brought him food, they treated him like a welcome guest, like a friend. Which was odd, considering the circumstances. Though when Fish Grandmother and Sportacus went to bed, he and Ithro would stay up talking, sometimes about the missions ahead of them, sometimes about Glanni’s criminal activities before the arrest, sometimes more personal stuff. That Thursday night, Glanni finally worked up the nerve to ask what had happened to Sportacus’ mother. Ithro had gone a little quiet.

“I mean, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” he backpedalled immediately. He was already intruding in Ithro’s life as it was. He wasn’t owed any of Ithro’s personal history. However, Ithro waved off his concern. 

“No, no it’s just… been a while,” said Ithro. He sighed, almost smiling. “Her name is Edda. She’s an elf as well. I met her at school, but she never paid much attention to me then. I thought she was beautiful. Blonde hair, brown eyes, bright smile. She only really started paying attention to me after school was over. I can’t say what her reasons were, but she seemed happy with me. She didn’t like Amma very much, though. Decided one day that I had to choose between the two of them. And as much as I loved Edda, I wasn’t throwing Amma out for her. I don’t know where she is now. She never writes or visits or sends gifts for Sport.”

“Wow,” said Glanni incredulously. “Harsh.”

“She was never happy with what she had with us. Amma could feel it. As crotchety as she can be sometimes, she does usually know what’s best for me. And she was right about Edda,” he said with a shrug. “Good riddance, I say.”

“If you don’t mind my asking…” said Glanni, aware he was pushing boundaries but still curious, “Why do you live with her? She told me your mother was dead… What about your father?”

“Intense,” he said immediately. Glanni didn’t even have time to ask what Ithro meant by that before he went on. “He wasn’t fond of breaking out the belt or giving me a good hiding when I did something wrong. He was much more subtle. Things had to be just so. I had to be eating the right thing, wearing the right thing, doing just so in school, sleeping at just the right time. And if not… Well, he knew that force wasn’t going to work. Too direct and noticeable. His methods were… worse.”

Ithro didn’t like to think about it. Isolation, sleeping in the basement, the most subtle of insults. Sometimes he would have preferred a slap to another night in the basement. Amma had found out entirely by accident. While Pabbi’s method’s had been intimidating, when Amma was angry, there was no doubt about where he had gotten them. When she’d found out the reason he was locked in the attic (because Pabbi was working on something and refused to be disturbed by Ithro asking for help with his homework), she had been beyond livid. Ithro had lived with her ever since, and saw his father very rarely afterwards.

“But it’s alright,” said Ithro casually. “I got to live with Amma and I turned out alright. I have my home, my career, my health, my grandmother, and my wonderful son. I have no reason to feel sorry for myself.”

“Still…” said Glanni. Ithro smiled, and he wasn’t sure if he thought that was brave or stupid. 

“Honestly, it only taught me how not to be with my son,” said Ithro. “I have thanked him for it at least once. For teaching me how to be a better father than he could ever be.”

Glanni had known that Ithro was optimistic, but it was then that he realized that this man was far more forgiving than Glanni had ever been. He didn’t have any childhood trauma, other than extreme poverty, and he’d still turned out poorly. He felt a twinge of pride in Ithro then. He wasn’t sure why, but it was welcome.

“It’s enough,” said Ithro, gesturing to the living room. “All of this is enough to make up for it. Especially him. Children have a funny way of making your life amazing and incredibly difficult at the same time.” Ithro smiled coyly, one side of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “But then… you already know that, don’t you?”

“Excuse me?” said Glanni, blinking in surprise. 

“I saw a finger painting in the letters on your desk,” Ithro admitted at last. “Unless that happens to be your hobby, I’m willing to guess there’s a child in your life. Maybe it was from Robin… I hadn’t considered that…”

“Well, no use in denying it at this point,” Glanni said with a sigh. It had been a long time since he’d spoken of him, mostly for his own safety. But this was Ithro. There was hardly anyone safer for him to talk about his son with. A smile came to his face almost involuntarily. “His name is Robbie. He likes cookies and dress-up and naps. Smart as a whip, too. Builds the best block towers this side of the river, I’d bet money on it.”

“How old is he?” asked Ithro.

“Two. Three soon,” said Glanni, worry clouding his features. “Which… is… worrying… Ana would want to be there. He’ll want her there. I can’t go to him for his birthday without her.”

“Where is he? I didn’t see any sign of him at your house and I should hope that you don’t have him just sitting in a room there.”

“Oh, good gods, no! I brought him to one of the neighbours as soon as Ana had been gone for two days. Peggy’s keeping an eye on him. They adore each other. I needed that load off while I tried to find her.”

“You said… he’ll want her there? For his birthday?” Ithro already knew what he was implying. Glanni caught on as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Is she…”

“Yes. Yes, she is his mother,” he said simply. These words brought up a whole slew of memories he hadn’t thought of in a long time. Ana’s hands hovering over her stomach when she’d first told him. Spending the night trying again and again to write a note that apologized without apologizing. Nothing changing, and yet everything changing in the following nine months. The mix of awe, disgust, fear, and anticipation he’d felt as she’d squeezed the blood from his fingers when the moment eventually came. The feeling that time had slowed to a stop as he’d looked down at Robbie’s sleeping face. It was the first time in his entire life that he could honestly say the word ‘serenity’ didn’t feel quite so ludicrous to him, sitting in the nursery with his son… even then it still felt odd… in his arms. The years between then and now had been the most surreal of his life. 

“But…” Ithro began, about to ask a million and one questions, but Glanni held up his hand. 

“I know I said she wasn’t my girl. She still isn’t. But in case you haven’t noticed this about me, I go a little too far when it comes to alcohol. Things happen when you go a little too far.”

“Oh…” Ithro replied. No further explanation was needed. Ithro dropped the subject, sensing that it was a little too close to home for Glanni. “Well… Should only be a few more days before you’re all healed up, then we can get back to work and find her. After that… I don’t know… I’ll vouch for you with the chief. Maybe she’ll talk to the Court representative on your behalf.”

“That… would be great,” said Glanni gratefully. Ithro was much more bearable to him after getting to know him in a more intimate setting. Not as much of a stick in the mud as he had initially thought. As of right now, he was almost a friend. 

And indeed it was only a few more days before Glanni was healed enough to finally slide off the couch without groaning. He was almost used to the fabric of the couch and the constant flow of fruits and vegetables. Even the sight of Sportacus, sorting out his prized collection of baseball cards on the coffee table at such an ungodly hour as five-thirty a.m. Glanni wasn’t even sure why he was awake himself, let alone the child.

“Do you ever sleep, kid?” asked Glanni with a groan as he stretched,

“Of course I do,” he replied cheerfully. “The sun was up, so I got up.” He took another bite from an apple Glanni hadn’t noticed previously. Then he spoke again. “Are you going to be living with us now?”

“What, here?” asked Glanni with the slightest scoff. “Of course not. It’s much too small here for me.”

“I like it,” he replied with a shrug, laying out more of his cards. Glanni narrowed his eyes.

“How old are you even, kid?” asked Glanni, realizing he hadn’t once thought to ask.

“I’m this many,” he chirped with a grin, holding up six fingers. Glanni figured that sounded about right. “How old are you?”

“Old,” said Glanni, dodging the question. He honestly wasn’t completely sure, what with the whole being raised by neighbours thing. Age was an estimate for him at best. He rose from the couch, intent on the fridge. “You want some breakfast kid?”

“Yes, please!” he replied eagerly. Glanni smirked. 

“If you promise not to tell your dad, I’ll make you waffles and a chocolate milkshake,” said Glanni, taking pity on the poor kid for his lack of sweets. Sportacus got very worried.

“No, no. That’s sugar. Sugar is bad,” said Sportacus, his tone suggesting this was common knowledge.

“But still fun,” Glanni replied. Sport shook his head vigorously. 

“Elves can’t have it,” said Sportacus insistently. Glanni shrugged.

“Eggs, then,” he said, submitting at last. Sport seemed pleased with this. 

Ithro’s serving was long-since cold by the time he got up three hours later. Fish Grandmother had already had her fish. She was watching as Glanni sat across from Sportacus, receiving a surprisingly in-depth lesson on various baseball players. He laughed at the oddity of seeing Glanni so enthralled by something other than food or alcohol. 

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” said Ithro upon entering the room. All three of the room’s occupants looked up upon his arrival. “What do you say I grab some breakfast and then we get back to work? Maybe go see Tallulah?”

“There are eggs for you on the counter. They’re cold, but hey, I tried,” he replied. “And, yeah, I guess we should get back into it.”

Sportacus seemed disappointed by this, but went on with his baseball lesson. It only took about twenty minutes for Ithro to finish his breakfast, then they were back in the cruiser, headed back to the lounge. Glanni was a little surprised that the place was even open. Tallulah was on the stage, likely warming up for the lunch crowd. She wasn’t in any of her performance costumes, just a simple white blouse and long burgundy skirt. As soon as Ithro heard her singing, he stopped in his tracks, completely mesmerized. Glanni chuckled.

“She has that effect,” said Glanni. He remembered his first time hearing her sing. Though she was only half siren, her voice was still enthralling. Ithro barely nodded in agreement. Tallulah had noticed them enter, but didn’t stop singing. “You get used to it.”

Her song was over before they knew it. Ithro felt disappointed, though he wasn’t sure why. She stepped out from behind the microphone and slid off the stage. Glanni caught her elbow on the way down, or she may have hurt herself. It was quite a drop.

“Well, well, well, look who came crawling back,” she said with a smirk. Glanni rolled his eyes. She looked Ithro up and down. “You’re still with him? Impressive.”

“What, you think I can’t hold onto someone for a week?” he asked.

“No. Impressive that he can put up with you,” said Tallulah, giving Ithro a wink. She turned back to Glanni. “What do you need to know now?” 

“The Meridians,” said Glanni, casting a few glances around. No one else was in the room, so he carried on. “They’ve been getting on my last nerve and I need to have a few words with their alpha, if you know what I mean.”

“The Meridians? Oh, the pack you mean,” said Tallulah, pulling up a chair. Her heels had been hurting her feet all morning, and were grateful for the rest. She furrowed her brows. “Thought you killed their alpha.”

“I did. It would seem they got a new one.”

“Odd. No one else was in line after Luke…” said Tallulah, scratching her head. A look of realization crossed her face, her eyes widening. “Oh no…”

“Oh no? No, no. No oh no. Trouble is the last thing we need right now, what oh no?”

“Luke never named anyone to take over the pack if something happened to him, but… There’s only one person who would have taken it… His ten-year old daughter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was intense...
> 
> Just as an afterthought; We all agree Sportacus is a really stupid name, right? Every time I write it, I cringe. It kills the mood. Stupid Magnus, why tf did you have to call him Sportacus??? Sports Elf The was much more believable. 
> 
> If it felt like there was a lot going on in this chapter, good. Cause there was. It'll be a while before we have another chapter as loaded as this one. I think. Who knows? Plot points tend to just sneak up on me when I write. 
> 
> Fish Grandmother has a name. And no, it's not Amma, Amma is just an affectionate Icelandic term for Grandmother. Like pabbi. But honestly, I feel like Fish Grandmother is much more satisfying than any name I could give her at this point. Like, she has one, but who cares?
> 
> Anywho, I’ll be back… sometime in the next few days maybe? Technical difficulties and whatnot, which explains the unusually wide gap between this chapter and the last one. Unusual for me anyways.


End file.
